Instant Message
by Keelah
Summary: She gave him names to kill, in order not to be killed herself. But having blood on her hands was turning out to be much worse than dying. "…There's still round 2…3…4…" When does this game end? She asked. "Don't you see, Sakura?" He said, "It never does."
1. Prologue

_**Full Summary:**_

_Sakura had lived the life of a teenaged-girl to perfection. That was, of course, before she met him – a mysterious stranger she met from cyber world who had it all in one: humour, manners (for the most part) and so hotly secretive… it was all fun and exciting until that one night, when he proposed to play a little game of his own._

_She agreed without any hesitation._

_And before she knew it, she was being watched… followed…_

_Suddenly, he was everywhere, and there were no places left to hide in._

_Little did Sakura know, she was being drawn into a never ending game of hide and go kill - an online game made too deadly real._

_... in which the cost of losing was the life of her own._

* * *

_**Sneak Peek  
(an excerpt from the story)**_

_To be able to play any sort of a board game, logically, you'll need two main things: the player and the representing token, also known as: the game piece._

_A game piece is, according to the dictionary, the object the player controls to be able to carry through and play the game._

_The player, in the process, enjoys the game, if it goes well to his liking._

_But why wouldn't it… when the token, a mere nonliving thing, did not have the ability to object?_

_The player, therefore, was in control._

_The game piece only follows. _

_In this little game that I was involuntarily playing in,_

_**He**__ was the player…_

…_And __**I **__was his game piece._

* * *

_**Instant Message**_

_Death has just signed in_

* * *

_**Prologue**_

Positioned furtively beneath the shadowed corner of the blind alley, I stood watching, wholly still and silent—like an unseen predator, waiting sinisterly for its prey.

But I wasn't in waiting for any prey at the current moment; in fact, the prey had actually been the one to come to us. The garrulous rat thought he was running away, when actually he'd been running straight to our little mouse trap- a dead-ended path where we had been expecting him.

The pathetic creature became too talkative. I knew from the start he was unreliable, but I did not have any more pawns at that moment, so I had no choice but to let the man do the…dealings.

He turned out unsuccessful in doing so, and if his failure wasn't dealt with quickly, it will soon develop as a threat to us. That was why we were here, dealing with the failure.

"Please. NO!" he screamed, wincing as he struggled to get up, only be kicked back down the concrete floor. "Just stop!"

I smirked, clearly amused by his futile pleas. Surely he wasn't brainless enough to think we'd simply let him off, when he already knew much more than necessary.

"This is your fault. You brought this up on yourself." one replied.

Then, another snickered unsympathetically, "And besides, this is way too much fun. I ain't stopping just 'cause you're begging, old man!"

And with that, they went on with it again.

…except for a young lad who didn't seem as amused as the others—he wore an apathetic frown, neither repulsed nor enjoying himself, landing an occasional hit every now and then. While the rest of them swallowed the shallow entertainment brought upon by the old man, this lad showed no emotion.

I twitched at his defiant worthlessness—it wasn't his area of interest, but I was paying him, and they were acquaintances. The least he could do was be a little useful. But I had to admit, the boy was interesting (more so than all the others); his utter lack of empathy, his quiet but clear obsession... I smiled, seeing the potential before my very eyes.

In any case, I stayed out of the fun—finding it only troublesome to go and join them—and simply satisfied myself with watching from afar, a smile of spiteful amusement forming on my lips as I watched them teach the rat its lesson.

Maybe next time he'll learn to keep his mouth shut; but then again, I highly doubt he'll receive a chance of a "next time"; it won't be long until his lungs stop breathing, and his heart stops beating…

Yes… it won't be long now… until we're finished with him…

His life was in my hands. I can choose to let him live, or otherwise end his life. I had that kind of power; the power between life and death.

I merely watched, pleased where this was going; by now, blood was involved, smearing over the ground, its sickening yet pleasurable aroma reaching my nose.

It was then that I took notice of a slight movement, so faint I barely detected it. Simply by my keen instincts, my eyes landed on the dumpster located only a few several feet straight in front of where I presently stood. I eyed it.

The others seemed not to have noticed the presence that clearly was out of place. Was it nothing more than a mere animal? A cat, maybe?

Or a squirrel?

It took a few seconds before I decided to set aside the matter, though not entirely dismissing it- I still kept in mind about that presence, whether it was just an animal or not- and redirected my focus back on the scene before me.

"I'll be quiet, I promise! Just stop!" he begged in vain.

But it was an empty plea, one of which was completely ignored. The only reason he was alive until this second was because I had allowed them to have a little fun. Eventually, the fun had to end.

"Oh shut up." piped in a voice, a scowl following shortly afterwards, "That's exactly what your problem is. You're too loud. Too much of a coward." he smirked, "I've had about enough of you."

He slashed his knife smoothly across the man's neck, and within the same second the body lay limp and fell to the ground. A typical puddle of blood formed around the lifeless corpse that now lay immobile; the young lad that had stood aside throughout the procedure twitched.

A gasp.

But it was not mine, nor any of theirs, nor the lad's, but of the person who hid behind the dumpster's shadow.

I knew it.

Right at that moment, a figure emerged out of the shadows, and bolted for the alley's exit.

"Aw, shit! She saw us!"

She saw. She had witnessed everything, or at least right from that moment of my suspicion. That old man's noise must've been louder than I assumed, drawing a lass into this isolated alley. I could only stare after her retreating back.

"Get her!"

"No." I spoke for the first time, bringing their chase to an abrupt stop. I appeared slightly out of my hiding spot, though still concealed by the shadow's penumbra, revealing little of my appearance.

Confusion and shock was evident in her eyes as she turned and stared back at me.

That was her major mistake, and she had no idea. I studied her, taking in her features. Hair, face, eyes, body, height, age… I took note of every part.

I'd been right, after all; it was a cat, metaphorically speaking; or maybe only a kitten- considering it was nothing more but a young girl. She had curiosity like one too- a cat, I mean- much too nosy for her own good.

"Let her be." I stated.

"She's going to grass!"

Oh, would she?

I smirked forebodingly at her, sending a silent message only between us; and the sudden dread in her eyes was enough response, as she went on running.

Would she tell anyone? Really?

Even if she was daring enough to spy on us—when a normal person would've made a run for it- she won't have enough guts to step up and grass... especially judging how she suddenly fled away in fright.

"No need to rush…"

I said as I stared upon the little girl, who scurried away, eluding like a terrified cat. True, felines were fast, but it wouldn't take much effort to catch it.

She might be just a little more to handle, but her silence was all I was interested in. I only had to be patient, to sit and wait—and watch in silence. She wouldn't know, but my men would be there camouflaged among the grass, watching her every move, ensuring her silence.

Then, when the time is right, I'll slither my way to the helpless quarry, catching it… and perhaps killing it.

I smiled darkly.

"…she won't be telling anyone."

...But off to my right, the still and motionless sight of the young lad caught my attention. The boy only stared, with empty eyes and attention now rapt, as though he'd found something finally worth his sick and quiet interest.

I smirked, knowing the girl would be well taken care of.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor do I own its characters.  
This plot, however, is a product of my own imagination**

* * *

_Memo: It's Keelah, author of Firelight Horrors, back for my third fic, with a new screen__ name! There's no story behind it. I ripped it off a beluga whale from the Van Aquarium. Original, eh?_

_So, have fun reading. :) Please review! Your feedbacks and comments are a great encouragement!_


	2. Little Prying Habits

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_**Chapter ONE  
**__**Prying Habits**_

"… _team consisting of police officers found dead in the public parking lot just behind the corner street of Burrard and 7th. Mysteriously, no evidence was found, nor any witnesses, despite the fact that it happened near a commercial ar-…"_

Click…

"…_hot day with the highs of 40, and a low of 34. Same weather will remain for the rest of the wee-…"_

Another click…

"…_Let's jump and slide and holler "hooray!" Sylvester, bugs and daffy; Taz and Lola too. Tweety's such a sweetie… now all… we… need… is… you!"_

"And I need a life." A bored rigid girl muttered; namely, me. "I'm blaming you, got that? It's your fault I'm a loner right now."

A cranky groan was heard from the other line. "Well _sorry _my mom had to go to some stupid get-together with my aunt, leaving me to baby-sit my stupid cousin and run this stupid flower-shop on my own! It's so…!"

"Stupid?"

"_Exactly!" _my eyes rolled mechanically at Yamanaka Ino, "You should come down here and help me. It'll be fun. We can-…" just then, a loud collision, a shattering noise, a shriek, and a burst of wild laughter interrupted. An ear-piercing obscenity followed shortly afterwards. "You brat! I'm gonna kill you!"

"Hmm, sounds inviting." I muttered in sarcasm. "Forget it. I prefer TV with pizza, burger, fries..."

"Yes, anyway. You won't _believe _what wearing in gym last Friday. Her shorts was practically her _underwear_. She didn't want to shoot hoops or dribble. All she did was bend over and the stupid senior jocks would—"

A big blur of black caught the corner of my eye, and whipping my head towards the window, I saw… still, a blur of black out the window, several meters away from the house.

I rolled off the bed from my earlier prone position and still with the phone in hand- blasting with Ino's continual blab- I walked slowly towards an opened window and glanced out. I saw my typical neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon, nothing out of the ordinary- except for the mob of men in black that presently lingered casually in the sidewalk.

I tried peering closer, but it was too far to sight anything else. In a flash, I was out my room then back again on my prior spot- with the cordless phone in one hand, and this time, a pair of binoculars in the other. I was looking through the lenses with much curiosity before I even noticed it.

Across the street, a few boxes lay arbitrarily across a small portion of the front lawn or the Public Community Center, and two or three guys were moving them inside the building. Judging from the rather chaotic mess, I thought maybe they were a bunch of older teens moving in for university; there was one located within the city. That, or perhaps they were only helping old, retired seniors planning to use a room in the Rec. Center for aerobics or something.

"Hello? Earth to Sakura? Do you copy?"

The imaginary light bulb afloat over my head suddenly ignited with a thought that I undertook without thinking twice- or rather, without thinking about it at all.

"I'll call you back."

Hurriedly, I rose from the window and changed into white sweatpants and a pale russet tank top.

"Wait!" wailed Ino on the other line, "Where are you going? What could possibly be more important and interesting than _moi_?"

"Some guys hanging out the Rec."

I hung up; and before long, I was out and running.

I didn't head straight for the Community Center; instead I went the opposite direction into the woods. I only wanted to see what was going on, but not exactly _be _seen. Even though I knew nothing of what I expect to find out in this little scheme of mine, it was nevertheless better than listening to Ino's continual blabbers.

It took me a long time to get there after running the long way through and around the woods, and soon I was only yards away from my initial destination. I kept my pace in a light jog, the sight of the house and its surrounding area growing larger by the second.

The Public Community Center, also known as the Recreational Center, was made up of two vastly rectangular buildings, each with four floors, plus one more mini building that was the Human Resources, or the office. Like any typical Rec. Center- this one had endless vacant rooms with wide spaces, plus a studio and fitness center and a very relaxing lobby. Unlike any typical Rec. Center, this one had neither a gym nor a field; it had a small park across the road, and an extensive parking lot, but no sports ground, except for the small basketball court pushed up in a corner of the parking.

One of the reason I liked my neighborhood was because the Rec. was only a walking distance from my house; about a twenty minute walk, considering I walked really slow. It gave easy access to the Library- which I secretly spent a lot of time in, secretly, since Ino would never let me hear the end of it if she found out.

Though I was too far away to see their faces, it didn't take much brains to figure out that they were all guys, fairly young. And no, they were obviously not senior citizens, but they _do_ qualify for _high school_ seniors, if not retired ones.

I kept my cool, wanting to give out the impression that I was no one more than a mere jogger (though of course, me staring like a stalker, no-blinking-at-all did not help emit that image).

Surveying the crowd of young men, my gaze gradually fell upon one. Something about him sparked an unnamed emotion within me, but it wasn't the strange sensation that caught me off guard—it was his stance, with his head turned right in my direction.

Startled, I ducked futilely—my pathetic attempt to escape his sight—but he must've already seen me. How could he not? In the midst of a deserted sidewalk, I was the only one there, standing out quite noticeably.

Suddenly, I felt so stupid, a rush of shame slowly crawling its way up my cheeks in a form of a blush. How long was I standing there like a complete idiot?

I fled by slipping into a trail in the woods within the forests, allowing the sky-high set of pine trees to close in behind me.

I kept running until I lost track of time and direction, following nothing more than the narrow bike trail etched through the forest ground.

Soon enough (just as I started cursing Konoha for its abnormally huge percentage of woodland- hence given its name, "hidden in the leaves") the wandering trail led me out the forsaken forest, and I found myself standing in a familiar, shop-filled avenue found in the outskirts of downtown.

There weren't a lot of people this afternoon, for which I was thankful for at the moment, not having to squeeze through the crowded street like it usually is. Sighing, I started to wander, trusting my instincts to take over and lead me back home.

Even though I made a total fool of myself, I have to say it was rather fun- the feeling of being able to see yet not seen, it was exciting, in a really childlike-spying-sort-of way.

"_NO!_"

I sharply halted, turning my head in all directions as I tried to search for sound's source. The scream was so faint that I started to think it was merely imagination.

I remained still in attempt to hear anything more that would prove the sound wasn't only my mind; but seconds passed fruitlessly and my hearing caught only the shoppers' soft chattering as they walked by. I tried to see if anyone else heard it too, but everyone in the boulevard carried on with their own business, too busy with their own lives.

"…_stop!" _

My gaze landed upon a narrow alleyway, and I was almost certain that was where the screams came from.

Being the snoop I was, a particular and fairly blatant idea inevitably entered my mind. And despite it going against all protests of my conscious intellect, I proceeded nonetheless, and soon I found myself creeping through the narrow alley.

High walls of brick stood parallel on either side in a confined manner; various objects caused the sun's orange glow to cast strange, alien silhouettes, and not to mention the dark shade of the walls itself- it was like being engulfed by shadows, entering a point of no return as I did the alley.

I jumped as clamors and angered yells echoed, but it was unclear and muffled.

Anyone would've ran away and I admit a second earlier I contemplated whether or not to do the same, but the noises only gave me a greater urge to carry on. Actually, it was more of my curiosity overpowering fear. I knew that whatever commotion was going on was happening just on the other end of this alley; and my questions would not subside until I find out _what commotion _that was.

The path twisted on a sharp curve to the right, and a big blue dumpster was positioned just by the angle. Cautiously, I tiptoed towards the metal container and knelt beneath its dark shade. I took a deep breath in before slowly peering around the corner.

A small crowd gathered in the middle of the alley, where a third wall lay planted about five yards from my current spot, creating a dead-end.

In the midst of them, a man lay curled up on the ground in a helpless manner, ever so often grunting as a wooden baseball bat came crashing down on his body. The bat struck again and again, its brawny assailant showed no sign of stopping. As if that wasn't excruciating enough, kicks and punches all came raining down upon him at the same time by the surrounding others.

I knew that the right thing to do was call for help. But I also knew that even the tiniest movements could draw unwanted attention—especially when one wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. So I stayed still, an act that took no effort for I was already frozen in place anyway.

There were seven or eight of them, with faces unseen and enveloped by a hood's shadow. One possessed strange, uncanny markings on his face, while another had his bangs covering most of his.

I stared at one individual who'd isolated himself from the rest of them, lingering by the fringes of the brash and eager crowd. I couldn't see his face, not from where I hid, and certainly the hood over his head didn't help bring about a clearer image, but it was his halfhearted motions that caught my eye. While every strike landed upon the old man on the ground was electrified with sick pleasure and satisfaction from the others, this man, this _boy_, seemed… well, indifferent. Empty.

There was something about him, the calmness of his posture, the empty feeling of his fists, his hidden face… just _something _that didn't quite sit right in my stomach. I turned away before the shivers surfaced.

Suddenly, the old man—whom I entirely forgot about for the past few seconds- was slammed hard and loud against the wall in a sudden motion; the raucous collusion startling my inner senses.

Turning towards the ruckus, I saw him slowly slop down on the floor; his grey hair, which revealed his elderly age, was now stained with his own blood; and on the wall of which he collided on were smears of the crimson liquid- its nauseating aroma soon reached my nose.

I retched and backed up against the wall. Then, I froze. Realizing what I'd just done. Feeling shriek in my throat that longed to emit, I clasped my mouth, producing a silent, mental scream.

I stayed like that, unmoving, for the longest three seconds of my life. Then slowly, with caution, I peered once more around the corner.

No one had noticed. Good.

I took a deep breath and gulped in attempt to steady my breathing, but hearing the man's frantic pleas only worsened my panic.

"I'll be quiet, I promise. Just stop!" the old man croaked, miraculously still alive.

"Oh, shut up." One of them said mockingly, "That's exactly…" the rest of his words were blurred. All I was aware of was the sudden gleam in his hands. A metal. A blade.

A knife.

To my horror, he slit the old man's throat- who slumped down on the floor, surrounded by a pool of thick blood, his body cold and lifeless- his neck bore a deep gash from where blood leaked freely.

By the time I realized it coming, it was already too late to prevent: a gasp involuntarily escaped between my lips- loud enough to attract everyone in the alley. All heads shot to my direction, and one single plan arose in my mind.

_Run._

I was already dashing for the alley's exit by the next second. I heard one of them swore, and a yell, "Get her!"

"_No,"_ hissed a voice. Then I knew their pursuit after me has ended; the footsteps had stopped.

My head turned instinctively, curious to find out who my savior was, and soon I found my gaze falling upon pale eyes, tinted somewhere between old gold and ecru, which seem to hover in the shadowed corner.

Little by little, the person's body materialized out of sheer darkness, and I frowned, realizing my ignorance of his presence until now. Though he stayed in the shadow's partial shade, one of the few visible features was a tattoo near his hand. It was some sort of a squiggle, or… a wavy line with a dot one end….or… I had no idea. It was probably only dirt.

He stared at me, a glint of determination in his eyes.

I wanted to look away, to break this trance he set me in, but no matter how hard I endeavored, I was unable to do so. I felt exposed under his observant gaze, his whitish orbs reading me like an open book.

"Let her be." The unmistakable malice in his voice made me realize he was no savior.

One of the men protested and yelled, "…she's going to grass!"

Initially, going to the police was the last thing I had in mind, the first being to get out of this filthy alley alive, then head straight home. But now, going to the station didn't seem like such a bad idea.

But the idea crumbled when his lips curled into a crooked smile and he _sneered _at me. It was with that single look that he sent his silent word of warning.

"No need to rush." I heard his raspy voice say, "She won't be telling anyone."

And just like that, I realized going to the cops wasn't only a bad idea, but the worst idea.

I tore my eyes away from him, but before I could will my body to turn and run, out in the edges of my vision, the shifting of a silhouette caught my attention. The inexplicable young man—he turned, slowly, slightly, but enough to capture my being with a single stare from the shadows of his hoodie.

His gaze locked onto mine, studying, analyzing, _memorizing_.

The older man in the shadows, the leader of the group, he was scary, intimidating, dangerous.

But this boy… —a shudder crawled up my spine— he didn't seem human.

* * *

Finally, I burst out that clogged-up, shadow-devoured alley, but I barely had time to relax until I heard voices back in the passage, sending me sprinting once again. I made sure to take the crowded routes and avoided any isolated streets; the more people to witness, the less they would possibly pursue.

As I ran, I realized that I've been doing four things routinely in the past afternoon.

One: snooping around in a business that wasn't my own…

Two: thinking that I wouldn't get caught…

Three: getting caught…

And the last one: running away.

I should really try and avoid these kinds of mishaps, but old habits die hard- at least, that's what they say.

As I fleeted farther away from the center of the city, the crowds lessened, and soon, as I neared the residents area, only about two or three persons walked by the streets. I slowed down to walk, positive now that I couldn't have been followed.

Nothing more but the typical sounds of the neighborhood filled the atmosphere; soft chatters of the occasional passers, a bark of a dog here and then, the sound of an engine as a car or two would drive by, and even the bird's chirping- as stereotypical as that may be.

Allowing the familiar serenity to calm my nerves, I stopped and bent over, rested my hands on my knees, tired from the long run. Almost as immediately as I halted, something in the corner of my eye did too. I turned around to see a vehicle just on the top of the hill; it was too dark now and too far to even distinguish whether it was a car or van, or what colour it was- something dark, like black, or dark blue or dark red or just about any dark color there is.

Seeing its immobility, I assumed it was parked, but that assumption evaporated when I turned to move forwards- and the vehicle did too. I continued walking, and the vehicle continued onwards, driving in such an abnormally slow pace. I frowned and looked back again, motioning with my hands for the far to drive ahead. Any driver with common sense would've overtaken a human walking down the street instead of waiting behind them.

I motioned the second time but the car- or van- persisted on driving slow. I shrugged, _fine, suit yourself._

I was tired and my leg muscles ached and burned- so I paused to rest again. The car did too. I looked back, frowning. The little game went on. I would stop, the car would stop; I would go, and the car would go; but it always remained several yards away from me- which was a smart distance that forbid me from seeing any plate-number.

I began speed-walking…along with my heart which began speed-beating, and with a sudden rush of adrenaline, I broke in a sprint. To my horror- though not much of a surprise, the car roared its engine and drove faster.

_They followed me! They followed me! _The thought repeated over and over.

If it weren't for the headlights from the automobile that was on my tail, I wouldn't have seen the path before me.

Within a matter of seconds, the end of the street emerged from the shadows. I ran faster, and then took a sharp turn around the corner, instinctively diving in a bush, an act that I saw multiple times in movies. Crouching, hidden, I waited and dreaded at the same time for the vehicle to drive around the corner.

After what seemed like hours, the car finally drove around the corner in a slow speed of ten kilometers per hour- in a prying-like manner. It passed me, thankfully not noticing my lurking presence, and drove further down the block, stopping in front of an old two-story house. I waited in anxiety.

Perhaps they thought that the house was mine. A part of me was thankful that they- I presumed that they were the men from the alley. Who else?- were mistaken about my address. But another part was dying from fear that it wouldn't be long before they found out where I was hiding. One little movement would be enough to draw their attention.

The car was grey, a worn-out 90's kind. I made a face in the darkness. I expected them to have a huge slick black Expedition, or a van with no windows- perfect for a kidnapping.

The driver's door opened.

But more to my surprise, an old man stepped unsteadily out of the small car, and walked up the front porch steps, where a lady as old as he was opened the door welcomingly for him.

All the while, I thought, _what the heck?_

* * *

It was amazing how news traveled so fast.

It had only been about four or five hours ago when I burst in my house, panting and running out of breath. I no longer had strength to walk up the stairs, nor to take off my shoes, and merely collapsed on the nearest couch available. Somewhere between trying to catch my breath, and sorting out my thoughts, I fell asleep.

I awoke a few hours later, made myself dinner, and switched on the television. There, being telecasted on the news was a story of the man I'd seen in the alley.

They didn't give out any details; just about a man found injured in a back alley downtown. They showed places of which I recognizably ran from; the dumpster, the alley, the shadows…

I listened until I could bare the guilt no more and turned off the TV.

_Injured_, the newscaster had said, meaning the man wasn't dead. That was a good thing.

But they stated no names, no one they suspected who had done this.

I panicked slightly on that fact, but convinced myself, _no you'll be fine,_ a voice inside me said. _It won't be long until they catch them, and after that, you'll be safe. No one will come after you anymore._

Okay, so I might be overreacting, over-paranoid; making this a bigger deal than it was. But on the other hand, why had that car been following me? It was no gang from the alley, but a wrinkly old man coming home.

Thinking about all this caused my mind to split off in two. A part of me was overwhelmed by guilt that I should perhaps go to the cops and testify; another part of me dread for the outcome.

I glanced at the phone that was no father than a foot away. I grabbed it, my fingers hovering over its touch-screen. The phone, sensitive to my touch, dialed despite my hesitation.

9…

Then, I remembered Hatake Kakashi- he worked at the station in the weekends. I thought about him picking up on the other line, and than having to explain to him. That would be hard and awkward; plus there was no doubt that he would inform my parents about my call, leading to more explanations.

1…

The odd squiggle-shaped tattoo of that guy in the corner… the strange markings on the other guy's face… and then there was the man with the really cool eyes; but these were all just vague details. Anything else, I hadn't seen.

1…

Then I recalled how that man glanced and smiled knowingly at me; it was with that single look that he sent his silent message...something along the lines of _don't tell anyone, _or _keep quiet_ and his silent warning _…or else…_

What? Or else what? What could he possibly do?

My thumb hovered over the _TALK _button, hesitating.

"_No need to rush…"_

My thumb, redirected by instincts, and pressed _END._

"_She won't be telling anyone."_

To my disappointment, he was right.

* * *

_**Hatake Kakashi**_

From the time he heard the report about the stabbed man, Kakashi knew instinctively it was a gang fight. Fights have been going on and on presently in Konoha, especially just outside downtown, where all the criminals and drug-dealers and addicts hung out. He confronted some of them himself, but no matter how many times they tried to drive them away, they always kept coming back, causing trouble.

But, as Kakashi came to check out the scene himself, he was surprised to find that his prediction had been wrong.

The alley once forgotten and isolated was now filled with his fellow workers, and a strip of yellow tape edged around the crime scene, around a man sprawled on the floor.

Dead. If he wasn't, paramedics would've swiftly carried him off to the hospital. But the old man was already dead, blood still sickeningly surrounding him.

In his hand was similarly bloodied knife.

* * *

_Memo: Scared yet? Don't worry, it'll get worse. lol_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Yours,  
__Keelah_


	3. Nighttime

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

**

* * *

**

_I dropped on the floor._

_I knew it was impossible that I could've been seen, considering the darkness that filled the night, but I ducked just in case._

_**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter TWO  
**__**Nighttime**_

The sun had long descended for quite some time now, and in its place was the clear and natural navy-blue sky. An occasional cloud or two hovered over the city, but none of them were enough to cover the scenic stars that ubiquitously dotted the vast space above.

Miraculously, staring blankly upon the beautiful night had been able to keep my mind off the certain events of this past afternoon. I'd forgotten almost entirely about it; almost.

"Sakura?" Mom's voice called, breaking the serenity. I glanced sideways to find her head poking through the opened door of my room. "Can we come in?"

I shrugged, "Sure."

Mom opened the door wider, and my dad's jolly image appeared behind her. "'Sup, kiddo?"

"Am I in trouble?"

"No." Dad replied, messing up my hair. "Why? What did you do?"

"Nothing." Nothing really, I thought sarcastically. "So what's up?"

"We'll be out for a few days." Mom explained, "You know the reason…business trip." My mom added softly, "I'm sorry, honey."

"Oh," I replied offhandedly, "Okay. It's okay." She had always been like this, my mother, always annoyingly apologizing for leaving so often, even though she never really bothered to stop. But at least she worried; Dad didn't even bother.

In fact, he was already wearing one of his cheeky grins, "Sorry kiddo." He said, "I have to watch over our new branch in Suna. Make sure everything's running smoothly, you know?"

Dad was once upon a time cop. A few years after having me though, he left the police service and now handled an entire department of a widely successful security business. At present, he's all brains, papers, office work and managing—something "safe", as mom called it.

And her?

"I need to meet a new client this weekend; and look into things before the trial. It's in another city, so I'll be out of town for a few days."

A lawyer who defended all kinds of people that've been in trouble with the law; though youth law was her major.

And for that reason, ever since I was a child, I've been the center of all teasing, not only because of my abnormal forehead, but because I was easily labeled the little-goodie-girl, daughter of a lawyer and a former cop and who has never ever done anything wrong. And that kind of reputation, despite my mother's opinion otherwise, was _not _good; it was kind that'll have you beat up in the hallways.

"I still feel bad for leaving her again… it hasn't even been at least two months since our last trip." Mom said.

I knew they were sincerely sorry for leaving me to go to some business trip (although it didn't seem like it with my father's cheery face), so I decided not to give them a hard time. Besides, their jobs brought home the big bucks, the rain of clothes and shoes and shopping sprees and food… I'm not complaining.

"If you want," my mother continued, "I'll call Akira and make her accompany you so that you won't have to be on your own…"

"No." I answered, a little too quickly than I intended for, "I'll be fine alone. Promise."

Akira was my mother's distant relative. She's nice. But having her around meant her little devil-in-disguise of a son would be tagging along too. And that usually lead to an indoor hurricane in the house.

"Oh. Well, alright, if you say so." she hesitated, "Good night, then."

"'night." and with that, they silently left my room.

I got off the bed and slouched upon my peach fuzz chair.

I figured if there was anything that could get me to forget about my previous guilt complex, it would be the computer-slash-internet, a remarkable device of technology that always seemed to have its way in amusing bored-to-death and guilty humans such as myself.

But apparently, my computer wasn't doing a very good job in carrying out its one and only purpose, seeing as I was still staring upon my empty buddy list at the present moment.

Out of the hundred-plus contacts that I have, entered, I was surprised by how many were online.

Two.

One of them was Ino, and the other was a girl in my science class that I barely even knew.

Talking to the other girl was out of the question; though just as I was about to click on Ino's name, she signed out.

I groaned loudly. I admit the greatly obvious fact that her continuous gossips of I-heard-this-from-that irritated me—and the rest of the world—but I never thought the time would come where I'd actually long for it.

I directed my gaze off the list and instead, upon the inactive desktop where a collage of pictures lay ascribed as my personal dormant wallpaper.

There was one of myself and Ino on the beach, and I remembered how we'd once again got into another of our pointless little fights over some guy she claimed to have seen first, but instead he went over and talked to _me _(_obviously_.)

Another was an image of Naruto and me eating instant noodles. That was actually just last month, when he finally received his driver's license, after many failed attempts to pass both the written exam and the road test. He had, that exact same day, wasting no time, driven me at once to Ichiraku, a Japanese restaurant where he treated me ramen: Naruto's favourite dish. He _actually _paid for my food, which was a miracle.

I looked at a few more pictures, waiting a bit too desperately for anyone to log on. As seconds passed unproductively, I stood up and decided no one would, at this point in time. I walked towards the closet and changed into comfier apparel.

All my classmates were probably out having fun and making the best of out the last few hours of the weekend, before the sun would rise in the morning, signalizing Monday once again.

Too bad I couldn't join them.

Suddenly, I found myself stumbling; and as soon as I regained my balance, I glared upon the bothersome object that lay innocently on the floor.

Binoculars.

I must've left it earlier, carelessly dropping it as I ran off to do my prying.

My gaze traveled up towards the window where the object lay adjacent to, stared at it for a few seconds and then back again, as an idea rose in my mind.

Of course, this new-stimulated idea, I knew, was just as idiotic and negligent as it was tempting and more or less habitual, in my case. But that was not enough to stop the inescapable urge I felt, successfully drawing me to grab the binoculars.

I positioned nearby my opened window and peered out the glass through the two lenses of the small telescopic device. Unconsciously or consciously, I directed it towards the Rec.

The building was in an angle from my viewpoint, showing only one side of its exterior. I focused the telescope towards the only spot that managed to catch my attention: the windows; that, and the small portions of which the street lights illuminated were the only ones lit amongst the dark and still vicinity.

A van was parked in front of it and the yard was fairly clean compared to the way it had been earlier; these I could tell by the figures' shadows cast by the moonlight.

Going back to the windows, there were six of them in both the first and second floor, horizontally aligned across each story. All the ones on the second floor were brightly lit, and I scanned them individually.

I couldn't perceive anything further than blurred shadows, for the curtains prevented me from seeing any more. Each window was roughly the same; vague figures—two in some, three in the others—moved about. A party, maybe.

I watched for several minutes; of course, I probably could've lasted for hours, but was cut short as I reached the last window. There was something about it that differed among the others.

This window possessed no curtains, and its transparent pane exposed much of the room's interior. But I paid no heed to that, and instead focused my gaze upon the single silhouette of a person that stood still, staring out the window.

I dropped on the floor.

I knew it was impossible that I could've been seen, considering the darkness that filled the night, but I ducked just in case.

Slowly as I possibly can, I headed back towards my chair and sat before my laptop with a built in microphone and webcam and Bluetooth with wireless connection and everything that a girl could ask for. A gift for my straight A's in ninth grade.

At that moment, the computer chimed, and I jolted, turning instantly towards the sound where an orange-highlighted window blinked continuously on my screen.

I squealed inwardly in delight that at last, someone chose to log in.

But it was not a conversation window as I expected and hoped it would be, nor an alert that someone had logged in; instead, it was an invite.

**Hsiaidt (View Profile) has added you to his/her buddy list**

**Add to my list**

**Block this person**

Below it, it said:

**Additional Message:  
****Hey there.**

It was a natural instinct for me decline and ignore a message from someone I didn't know, especially considering the internet's unpredictability.

A large number of people don't mind conversing and making friends, or even hooking up with unfamiliar foreigners over the net. I assumed it was due to complete boredom or desperation. I've encountered a few already in the past, and always I ignored them.

I follow a single rule every time I went online, and that was _no outside contact over the internet between unknown individuals_. And this **Hsiaidt** was undoubtedly one of those unknown individuals.

Yet even so, I found myself accepting the invite, but I had no plan on chatting with him or her, whatsoever.

Apparently, it didn't matter whether I planned on it or not, because after a few seconds…

**hsiaidt: I can see you**

I raised my eyebrow, unsure how to react. Deciding to ignore the message, I closed the window and carried on with… staring at my computer screen.

It wasn't long before another message popped up.

**hsiaidt: I'm watching you.**

I hesitated, before typing in.

**lilpinkchiq: do I know you?**

**hsiaidt: no, but I know **_**you.**_

**lilpinkchiq: who are you?**

**hsiaidt: someone who's watching you right this very second**

**lilpinkchiq: what do you want?**

**hsiaidt: you.**

I pursed my lips together, realizing only now that my heart had started beating in an abnormally fast pace.

**hsiaidt: you're scared, aren't you?**

**lilpinkchiq: **_**no**_**.**

**hsiaidt: then why are your fingers shaking?**

I looked down, and sure enough, my fingers were quivering over the keyboard.

**hsiaidt: I'm right, am I?**

**lilpinkchiq: no.**

**hsiaidt: liar.**

**lilpinkchiq: if you think this is some joke, it's not funny. Stop it!**

**hsiaidt: I'm not kidding. I really **_**can **_**see you**

**lilpinkchiq: as if. Just shut up. You can't see me**

**hsiaidt: yes I can**

**lilpinkchiq: prove it**

**hsiaidt: hmm… you're really that persistent? Fine. **

**hsiaidt: you're wearing a white oversized shirt that reaches down your thighs, with a light blue patterned print in the middle. Plus denim shorts**

**hsiaidt: and your hair's tied up in a pony-tail**

I froze.

**hsiaidt: told you I wasn't kidding**

It took me a whole minute to take in what he had just said, which was, much to my horror, very accurate. How did he know? How…?

Could he really see me right now? I shuddered. No, of course he couldn't. And though it was highly unlikely, I tried convincing myself that it was nothing more than a mere coincidence.

**lilpinkchiq: that was a coincidence**

**hsiaidt: we both know that's not true.**

**lilpinkchiq: stop talking to me**

Directing the pointer towards the top right section of the screen, I clicked the "x" button and the window quickly vanished.

Just as quickly, another window popped open.

**hsiaidt: no can do.**

**lilpinkchiq: shut up**

Once again, I exited the window, but it was futile.

**hsiaidt: please don't make me come out there just to prove I'm not lying. I don't think you'd like it if I do**

I didn't reply.

I don't know if it was simply because I couldn't think of anything to say, or if it's because I was too scared to even do so. Saying "shut up" or "stop it" only seemed to urge him to continue on.

**hsiaidt: you're scared.**

**hsiaidt: don't even try to deny it. I can **_**see**_** you. I **_**know **_**you're scared.**

I gulped.

**hsiaidt: You can't even type anymore.**

**hsiaidt: wait. who am I kidding, you're not scared…**

**hsiaidt: you're TERRIFIED. See? I know I lot about you.**

It took much of my strength to force myself to type.

**lilpinkchiq: you creep. Get a life. You're lying. You don't know me. You don't know **_**anything **_**about me!**

I waited for a response.

Nothing.

Then, after a few minutes, just as I began to think I wont be receiving a reply, he did.

**hsiaidt: oh? But I very much believe I do…**

…

**hsiaidt: … Haruno Sakura.**

**

* * *

**

_**Unknown**_

He saw her.

For multiply times now, today. She seemed to be everywhere.

Even in places she wasn't supposed to be...

In places that were entirely none of her business...

…places that weren't meant for little girls playing spy games such as herself.

He meant no harm, of course. In fact, he dreaded it even to have to treat her as a threat; he felt almost sorry for her. But rules were rules; and orders were orders.

He had to do something to be safe; just precautions for now.

…because he wasn't the only one who did the sightings.

_She_ herself saw some things, too. And perhaps she saw _him_, which would make things much worse for his case.

And that was just unacceptable.


	4. Connections

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_The two were basically frozen, just drowning in each other's pools, so completely in the moment._

_Something was there._

* * *

_**Chapter THREE  
**__**Connections**_

"What?" Ino asked, intentionally oblivious of the willful glares I clearly sent her.

"You know very well _what_," I snapped.

_**hsiaidt: … Haruno Sakura**_

_I struggled to breathe._

_I couldn't believe it. This person; he knew me. But how? Was he a part of that gang-like group back in the alley? Had they somehow managed to get hold of my contact? My name, even? Thoughts swirled in my mind._

_**hsiaidt: lmfaoo!**_

_My mind then came to an immediate halt. I blinked._

_**hsiaidt: aahahahhahah Look at a mirror quick! Your face is PRICELESS!**_

_Bewildered, it took me a couple of seconds wondering just what exactly was going on, before finally, it snapped to me. I growled._

_**lilpinkchiq: Ino? Ugh you stupid little—**_

_**hsiaidt has logged off**_

I glared as she spoke in between her giggling fits. "Your webcam… was on…and, like, how could I resist?"

"That was _not_ funny."

"But _your face_ sure was." She doubled up in laughter. "You know that new e-mail I made up for you? It's an acronym for, Haruno Sakura Is An I-D-io-T. Genius, eh?"

"That's stupid." I glared at her. It was only Monday morning and yet I've already lost count of how many times I've glared at Ino. "You scared the hell out of me. I really thought you were some stalker."

She scuffed, "Like, who in their right mind would stalk _you _out of all people? You're dense…fat…ugly… huge forehead…the list just goes on and on…"

Rolling my eyes, I waited for Ino to finish her daily rituals. Any normal person would've simply grabbed what they needed from their locker and headed to class, but Ino had always insisted on applying final touches with her make up, hair…really, she should be forbidden to have a mirror in her locker.

Noticing my sudden silence, she asked, her voice slightly serious yet with mirth. "You're not mad… are you?" I shook my head. "So what's up?" I shrugged. Ino glared, unsatisfied by my silence. "Tell me."

Truth is, the amount of stories and information there was contained inside of me was overfilling that I just couldn't help but tell her everything—despite consciousness's directive otherwise. After a few second's hesitation, I did.

I excluded my little awkward visit to the Rec and basically any detail that gave away the men's possible identities—not that I'd seen much anyway. It wasn't exactly telling everything, but it was still more than I've told anyone else: which was nothing to no one. I said I had only seen the man nicked, and then I ran away; the end.

Ino was thrilled nonetheless. "Awesome!"

I shook my head. "No telling anyone. _Anyone._"

"So you won't even let the idiot know?"

"No!" I said as though it was the most obvious answer there was, "Naruto will only make a big fuss about it. So—"

And then she was gone, not anymore in front of me but hiding behind my back. She muttered, "Oh crap."

I turned to wherever she was looking at. There, in the middle of the hall, was a large man, standing with his ever-present fearsome façade—Morino Ibiki.

He worked alongside Kakashi as the school's liaison officer, every now and then turning up to confiscate illicit materials or break up an archetypal fistfight that happened on occasion; and sometimes for talks about violence and crime—what not to do and such, boring stuff that most of us chose to ignore. They were the type who walked around with walkie-talkies, and whenever they were present meant trouble also was.

"He's supervising today." Ino explained, "…It's weird, Kakashi-sensei's here too." she paused to think for a moment. "So who do you think's dealing?" she asked, gossip in her tone now present, the one that always sounded eager for the dirt. "Or maybe possession? My guess: Kin and Dosu and their mob. They're the type to bring in guns. Or maybe it's the smokers. They always look high every time I see them."

"Okay, I'm going to class before Morino hears you and screams at us," I chided. "It's none of our business, anyway."

"Well, if it's of any interest to you, I heard we got new students coming in." Ino explained brightly, "All guys. Probably exchange from an all-boy school."

_I heard, I heard, I heard_… Ino would not live without the trend of gossip. I doubt even half of what she said was true. I nodded absentmindedly and turned to leave.

"Sakura, your class is this way," Ino said, pointing the opposite direction of where I was headed, towards the direction where the big grouchy-looking Ibiki was situated.

"And have Morino yell at me? Forget it, I'm taking the long way."

Our school, The Hidden Leaves, was a circular structure surrounding in its center a spacious, round courtyard. The longer way towards my first class, Science, meant walking all the way around that arc, instead of cutting through the garden like I usually did. I began to regret my plan of action when I noticed the lessening crowds in the hallways.

I was running by the time I reached the back portion of the school building, when something through a little window brought me to halt. Quietly, I tiptoed my way beside the double-door exit and peered through one of the embedded panes.

The doors lead out to the school's staff parking lot, and there, gathered on the loading zone, was the principal, a couple of the school admins, Kakashi and, to my surprise, several younger individuals who had just recently come out of a silver van.

I recognized them immediately as the ones I saw at the Rec just yesterday. Why were they here? They couldn't be the new students Ino had talked about, could they? All-boy schools are usually private institutions, meaning rich, meaning lads with signature clothing and gold watches, whereas these guys looked just the exact opposite.

Faded, ripped jeans; dark shirts with its variety of visible off-putting prints; black hoodies… and these weren't the JanSport-North Face-type jackets that well-off, gangster-wannabes wore along with their low-hanging bling-blings. It was more the kind a hoodlum would wear while bashing car windows and nicking stuff off convenient stores. Perhaps the only thing that broke their threatening image as a group was the little puppy cheerfully running around, and the equally energetic boy who was playing with it.

Morino appeared beside Kakashi while the adults went on exchanging words. I wondered subconsciously what could be serious enough that had to involve both the school's stationed officers.

I scanned the small crowd of young men, all of whom had remained silent throughout the whole discussion, until one caught my eye. I didn't know what made him any different from the rest, so I stayed still, thinking.

Then, it hit me.

He was the same boy from yesterday, the one who might've-_might've_, although I genuinely otherwise—caught me staring by the sidewalk. What I did not understand though, was why just the sight of him sent me squirming out of discomfort.

Just as I was _about _to leave, a loud, boisterous, instantly-recognizable voice exclaimed in my ear.

"Sakura, _there_ you are! Hey, what are you looking at?"

I immediately clasped the ever-so-strident mouth, "Shut your—!"

In mid-sentence, I shrieked as I tumbled forward when the door I'd been presently leaning on had all of a sudden swung open.

"_You._" The roar boomed and echoed, effectively attracting everyone's attention in the parking lot. Not that it mattered anyway; the idiot's deafening greeting earlier had already done that very job.

It was hard to look up, not entirely because of Morino's downright glare, but also in account of knowing just how many stares were now focused at our direction. Yet hard as it was for me, the idiot simply grinned, and pointed towards our principal, Tsunade.

"Hey, old hag. What's up?"

Tsunade growled temperedly, "Get the hell back to class! That means you too, Uzumaki!"

"But I didn't even do anything!"

"Let's go," I whispered sharply and smacked him on head in the process. In no time, I was already walking away in such a hurried manner that I was almost running; almost.

As I strode away, with the idiot ambling beside me, I felt a firm and steady gaze drilling on my back. Although it was only a hunch, I felt almost certain that someone was staring at me. Despite the great urge to walk faster and escape out of sight, another urge to do a different act proved greater and my body gave into it.

I looked back.

Everyone had started entering the school building through another one of the entrances.

All but one remained, and I was met by a pair of eyes staring back into my own.

* * *

"Sakura!" Rock Lee waved, "I missed you! Why weren't you in Art?"

I laid down my tray of food, and glared at a certain blonde idiot, "Detention. Blame him."

Lunch, my second-most favourite class after dismissal. Everybody sat down, gradually filling up the once-empty chairs that encircled our characteristically designated table: located in the farthest corner of the cafeteria, only five steps away from the beverage counter and adjacent to one of the vast windows that viewed the peaceful streets of town. The perfect spot.

"Sorry, Sakura…" Naruto grinned sheepishly, "But it wasn't all my fault. I didn't even know that…"

"Sakura got caught snooping around," Ino interjected, "_Big deal_. That's like catching Naruto tripping on his own foot. Happens every time, so enough about that. Saturday with Ren was _so_ fun! We went—!"

"_Torture_." Choji Akamichi covered his ears dramatically, "Spare me, please."

We all laughed except for Ino. "Shut up, Choji. I'm in love with him. He's the one, I tell you, and he's Mr. Right! No guy could ever outshine him. He's gorgeous, an awesome kisser, and did I tell you he has a six-pack? And biceps. And—" She paused. "Man, look at _that_!"

How typical. Ino hadn't even finished talking about one boy, and she's already got her eyes on the next. Though I wasn't as intrigued and fascinated in guys as she was obsessed with them, I turned my head in search for what had captivated her utmost attention.

"Forget Ren. I got a whole hottie selection right _here_."

Gathered around the cafeteria's entrance, opposite of our setting, was Ino's ideal "hottie selection"; it was the guys from the parking lot.

"Hey, it's _them_," Ten-Ten whispered to us, sipping her can of juice in the process, "Careful, Ino, they're bad. But then again, that's exactly how you want 'em." She rolled her eyes.

"What do mean?" I asked confused.

"They're staying here for a while," Ten-Ten explained "for space and facilities. HL's supporting this program that involves helping kids or something. That's all Gai-sensei really said."

"Like a tutoring program?"

"More like suspension program. Totally messed up dudes. I heard they all got kicked out in previous schools." I thought about the things they could've done to get expelled. Constant skipping, swearing at teachers, inappropriate behavior, low grades, failing classes, bullying…what were they doing in our cafeteria?

"_No_," Ino protested with a certain twinkle in her eyes, "I heard they got in trouble with the law!"

I stared at them. With the way they appeared and behaved; a single look was enough to assume that they were most-likely trouble.

To my surprise, a girl was amid them, standing out distinctively with her skinny denim shorts, and a coat with a slit that showed much of her bare stomach. Add all that plus the fact that she was flirting, equaled to a successful exploit in bringing the word "tramp" up a whole new level—that was, excluding her thick-framed glasses. _That, _on the other hand, was an amusing contradiction.

"I love how I don't even know her, and I already think she's a bitch," Ino spat as she looked at the same girl with disgust; she had noticed her too, but who couldn't have when she was the only girly-girl amongst a mob of…well, manly-men?

"I mean, skin much?" Ino went on, "She's all over him. It's like he can't even breathe anymore! And some glasses are completely classy, but that thick-framed, thick-glass she's wearing is just not. What's she trying to dress up as? A nerdy whore?"

"Guys," Choji, surprisingly, bothered to actually speak instead of eat. "Don't look now, but there's a freaky red-head staring right at us."

Despite that, everyone looked. I easily spotted the said red-head standing with the guys; but unlike the other guys who occupied themselves with filling their trays with food, he stood at a corner and stared at our direction.

I didn't pay much heed to him however and intuitively directed my gaze back over to where Four-eyes was. But, despite her characteristic sluttish outfit, she wasn't as riveting to me as much whom she was currently clutching onto was.

It was starting to get bothersome how I always seemed to espy the same particular boy when I had no idea whatsoever who he was, nor why my gaze was always drawn to him. Maybe it was because of Four-eyes effectively drawing attention to both of them as she always seemed to have him locked him in an obviously unwanted embrace. Or maybe it was because he _was_, to some odd extent that I will never acknowledge, rather…_eye-catching_ in his own darkly appealing way. Though I doubt it was attraction given that I, for one, was never really "in" to bad-boy types the way Ino was so overly magnetized to them.

Or maybe, I considered, it was because of this familiar yet indescribable sensation that surged throughout my body every time I laid eyes on the boy.

I watched with inquisitive surveillance as he turned away from the counter, his tray of food in hand, and then halted in a sudden manner.

There was no question of why. It was clear despite the room's length distance that was between him and me. I knew for certain the awkward and unfortunate fact that he had caught me staring at him for the _second_ time (the first by sidewalk, but the parking lot episode didn't count. _He _had been the one staring at _me._)

I snapped my head so hard in the other direction that I felt as though my neck went snapping too.

"They're heading here!" Ino whispered blissfully, "How do I look?"

"What is _wrong _with you?" I asked with shock, "They're _suspendees_. Meaning, trouble."

"So?" she replied nonchalantly.

Groaning, I sunk back in my chair and covered my face as the guys occupied the table to our right, and the other empty one next to it. Kakashi was with them—an odd sight of a teacher eating with students.

"Ino," I whispered, "Ino!"

"What?"

"That's them."

"What?" her face twitched with annoyance, "Would you stop mumbling?"

"That's _them_. The ones I told you about, yesterday."

"No _kidding_?" she exclaimed loudly, as if she'd forgotten the little fact that the subjects of our tête-à-tête were just on the next table. "They're the ones who stabbed an old guy in that alley? Holy _crap_."

I glared at her. "No, I meant the ones I saw hanging out at the Rec."

"Oh. Well, they _are_ cute," she remarked loudly.

Ino was fixated upon the said guys like an overly-fanatical devotee of the hot-posse organization. Conversely, I, too, couldn't seem to take my eyes of them.

I couldn't help it. I turned to stare in a position where I obtained a good prospect of the next table. In spite of that, I couldn't seem to find the single word that would describe them. They were particularly an odd bunch indeed.

Although most had appeared to be rough and tough, some others, surprisingly, looked not-so-bad. The strange red-head sat in the table next to ours, neither speaking nor eating, and though they didn't possess an atmosphere as tough or scary as the others, the frown he wore was enough to make up for it. I noticed a lot of them sported tattoos. One of them had scarlet triangles on both his cheeks, and while I found it uncultured to have his dog anyone or the table, his shoulder or atop his head, with his goofy grin, he indisputably fell under the not-so-bad list.

Another had languidly laid his head on the table (dead or asleep, I couldn't quite decipher) while someone else was staring… I blinked—I supposed that dot which presently crawled on his finger was some kind of insect. He had an oversized collar, dark round sunglasses… perhaps this boy was blind?

There were a couple others who had their backs turned away. There was a blue-head, but I couldn't make out anything more than his hair colour. The boy who always caught my eye had once again done so; I saw him sitting on the other table, the one farther from ours, and I watched as he jabbed his food with a fork. I watched and lost track of time.

"You know, it isn't very polite to stare."

I jolted with surprise and thought it was _him_. But it was another person. An amused smirk had been very much a good hint of who had spoken. He was not the same guy that I've been staring at up to that time, but rather, an analogous duplicate in appearance.

I narrowed my eyes at the individual that sat not so far on the other table; the cocky jerk probably thought I was staring at him when I was actually staring _past _him and towards another boy much cuter than he was.

"Who said I was staring at _you_?" I snapped.

"It isn't very polite to retort at someone who had just _kindly_ admonished you either."

"Polite my ass! Ow!" I exclaimed, feeling a sharp nudge.

"Excuse my friend." A glare from Ino, "She has… um, anger problems. Can't control her own temper."

"Ah." He nodded, that irksome counterfeit of a smile still wedged on his face. "Yes, I know what that's like." What did _that _mean?

"Go to hell!" I snapped.

"Ladies first."

"That would be you."

Chuckling, he said, "I have to go…unfortunately. But I'll see you both around."

I glanced at the clock that hung above the cafeteria's walls and noticed that it was already half way through lunch. I must've been staring for longer than I thought.

He stood up along with the others in his table, and I noticed the other table next to them began leaving too.

He gathered several pieces of papers and pencils that were dispersed before him on the table.

I scuffed, "I hope we don't."

"I hope we do." Ino chirped in.

"No we don't!"

The boy rolled his eyes and had started to strut backwards, facing us as he spoke, "Try and relax, you hag. I'll see you around."

"See ya!" Ino called out.

He grinned, responding to her flirty smile with a playful one, "Bye, Beautiful."

He left. Then, something snapped to me. I growled.

"_What _did he just call me?"

* * *

**omg-its-ino!: then I saw them in field 2 with dogs and they're so cute, but that girl was there again and she just ruins the picture; I just wanna strangle her! Don't you?**

**omg-its-ino!: and did I tell you that she tripped?**

I groaned. Ino's blabbers were haunting me; in the phone, in face-to-face conversations, and right now, over the 'net.

I glanced at the digital clock on the bottom right corner of my computer screen, _8:44PM_.

**omg-its-ino!: …and I only did the typical. There's a whole array of hotter men that goes to my school, so would I stay with someone who doesn't? But he's all like what-the-eff and stuff**

**lilpinkchiq: you broke up with him through a text message, you idiot; what do you expect?**

It was only earlier today- to be more precise, right after lunch- that Ino decided in the spur of the moment to end her short-lived relationship with Ren- the boy who she met over the summer- with the clear-cut yet absurd reason that she met "hotter men"- in her own words.

**omg-its-ino!: pfftt he was too pathetic anyway. And lighten up, will you?**

**lilpinkchiq: I'm still mad at you**

**omg-its-ino!: stop sulking! I got a gift for you. kinda like a peace-offering or whatever**

**lilpinkchiq: what is it?**

**omg-its-ino!: luuuuvvvv 3 you'll see. And then you'll thank me. xD**

**omg-its-ino!: nywayz, gtg. peace out **

Suddenly, the computer chimed.

I stared upon the new window that had just popped out my screen. It was an email announcing that someone had sent me a private message in one of my many social web-network accounts that I had made (and yes, I do realize that I should get a life.)

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 20:58] Do you want to play a game?**_

_Rogue. _I tilted my head as I waited for something to click; nothing. The name was unfamiliar to me, though it was probably one of my classmates with a new email.

**From: lilpinkchiq  
**_**[Message 21:04] umm... who are you?**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 21:04] who I am doesn't matter. Well, are you game?**_

**From: lilpinkchiq  
**_**[Message 21:06] what…game?**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 21:08] lets play…the math game.**_

**From: lilpinkchiq  
**_**[Message 21:11] what?**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 21:12] don't worry, I'll teach you. just follow instructions.**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 21:13] first, add you and me…**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 21:13] subtract our clothes…**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 21:14] divide you legs…**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 21:15] then multiply. Don't forget to leave your solution.**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 21:16] so, you in?**_

…

**From: lilpinkchiq  
**_**[Message 21:21] Go to hell.**_

* * *

_**Inuzuka Kiba**_

He couldn't help it, he was grinning so widely that it hurt his cheeks.

Kiba saw it. He caught with his own sharp eyes, although even an idiot could identify it. And it wasn't just imagination, because, really, it couldn't be more obvious than it already was. The two were basically frozen, just drowning in each other's pools, so completely _in the moment_.

Something was _there_. Though it was unseen, invisible, a secret passed on between the two, something was without a doubt _there, _floating like an aura, a _spark_, even –though saying that would be way too girly.

Kiba was not the only one who noticed it either. The rest had seen it too, and were most likely thinking the very same thoughts he had at the same moment. But how could it not be missed? Their daze lasted for a whole, entire second, before the witch butted in jealously, because even someone as dimwitted as her could tell that _something_ was _there._

No one was making a move though. Everyone's just pretty much stealing glances, looking for some kind of emotion on The Cold One's face, and of course, failing.

But Kiba just couldn't contain it. It was an event, a chance, of a lifetime that almost never ever came. Now it had, he was going to take advantage of it.

Kiba nudged him in the ribs. "Hey, Uchiha_—"_ yet before he could finish, the boy he was talking to walked off. _Ch, typical._ But Kiba wasn't about to give up. In a matter of a second, he had caught up and nudged him a second time. He didn't budge.

"Dude…" a third nudge. The boy flinched; _finally_, a reaction.

"_What," _he barked, "do you want?"

Kiba grinned, so widely that his pointed teeth had shown, almost looking like fangs. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

"What _what_ was about?"

"_That._"

"_What_ that?"

"That _thing_ you got going on with that _girl_."

"What _thing?_" he asked, clearly frustrated. "_What_ _girl?_"

"I'm talking about Karin," Kiba replied sarcastically, causing the boy to glare.

"_The _girl!" Kiba exclaimed, "Who _else? _She's got to be the only person in this world who can get you all pensive like this."

"I don't know _what _you're talking about."

"Now you're just being an ass in denial. C'mon, admit it!"

"Go screw yourself, Inuzuka."

"Nah, man, I'd rather screw _her_." Again, a twitch. Now Kiba's grin was simply unstoppable. "Seriously, do you know what this means?"

"That you're a horny little boy?"

"_No,_" Kiba replied triumphantly, "That _you _are not _gay._" Another dagger-sharp glare. "But that's not the point."

"You have a point?" he asked sarcastically, but Kiba ignored it.

"There was something there, between you and that chick. I sensed it. There was like, you know, a connection."

"Shut up or you'll be sensing a connection between my fist and your face." He snapped angrily and walked off.

Kiba grinned. Yep. He was in complete denial.

* * *

_**Read, Review and Thank You!  
**__Keelah_


	5. Uchiha and The Rogue

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Sasuke and I stared at each other._

_I knew who he was unmistakably, but he obviously hadn't recognized me._

_I wanted to keep it that way._

* * *

_**Chapter FOUR  
**__**Uchiha and the Rogue**_

I ran. No, I _sprinted_.

Even faster when the bell blared out its final ring, symbolizing that class had already begun.

I couldn't believe what luck I had, running late when I had unmistakably planned on reaching the school ten minutes earlier. Instead, I was in an opposite scenario, hurrying along these empty halls, my footsteps echoing amongst its bare silence, dragging along my hefty, book-filled bag; and might I add _late._

It was stupid of me to stay up so late last night, as frustration kept running through my veins like rushed adrenaline, keeping me awake until two in the morning.

After a few halls, corners and stairways, I reached my first period class: the Graphic Communications computer lab. I entered without a moment's hesitation, as if that would make me less tardy than I already was, and inwardly prepared myself for a dull lecture about tardiness embarrassingly in front of the class.

But instead what I found behind that door was far from any expectations I'd made and, as I realized a second later, was worse than any lecture.

I might as well have walked into a closet with the surprise, confusion and shame that had waved through me all at once—in fact, walking into a closet would most likely have been better, and most definitely preferred, than standing before a male-populated classroom—apart from the four-eyed girl flirting in a corner—with all their attention suddenly focused on me in a nerve-racking manner.

"Sakura? In this class? Well, _that's _a surprise." The embossed crooked line on Hatake Kakashi's face clearly denoted he was grinning beneath that dark mask of his. I would've forcefully wiped it off his face if only I hadn't some respect for this immature, highly-irritating, rumored porn-reading old man. "And I have to say I'm pretty damn awed, too."

"It's not like that," I blurted, "I'm not… I wouldn't—" I bit my lips from further humiliation.

The room, my alleged graphic comm's classroom now filled with trouble-makers, was brightly lit with the sun beaming down through the windows, sweltering hot as the AC was most likely off. The only source of cool air was through the opened sills, all of which hadn't done much of a good job for it was still ablaze inside. Several computers were backed up in the far wall of the room, some of them switched on. My eyes landed upon an individual sitting before one.

"Gross, it's the hag," he said with that distinctive smile of his. It was the guy from the cafeteria that had called me a name much like he had done just now..

"Gross, it's your face," I sneered back.

"Sai, be nice," Kakashi piped in. "Sakura, your class is downstairs in the library. Computer Lab two. Go."

I raised an eyebrow, "This _is _my class."

"Idiot. Turn around." I made sure to glare at the jerk, Sai, before turning around to glance at the door. There, written in big, bold letters, a note said, _**Sarutobi's Block B & C Graphics Class in the Library, CL2 for the rest of the week**_

"Oh."

Kakashi sighed heavily, as though he carried the weight of the world, as though he didn't merely sit around in this chair reading sexually explicit materials all day. "Wait," he called out, "I'll write you a note. It'll only take a minute."

With that said, I would've instantly jumped for joy. Kakashi-sensei wasn't the type to be formal on school matters, which made him eminently well liked around the campus. But the result of his generous deed had me staying there longer than necessary. It was alright the first second or two, but when time stroke its third second, I was already fiddling my hands off.

My eyes roamed up the ceiling and about the room in attempt to alleviate in my mind from the stares I was receiving. That mission failed the moment my gaze landed upon a certain boy sitting on the farthest corner of the room. It was _the_ boy from the cafeteria (and the parking lot, and the Rec) who was always a magnet to my eyes.

He was turned away from me and towards the window—thankfully, so he didn't see me gawking like a jaw-dropped statue—with his mouth propped upon his interlocked fingers. Four-eyes presently clutched the life out of him by wrapping her arms around his neck in a strangling manner. She acted like they were going out, but the irritated look imprinted on his face definitely told otherwise.

Suddenly, he turned his head, and before I could look away, he had my emerald orbs locked with his obsidian ones.

Obsidian.

I've only seen one person with the same strange hue of eyes as he did, but that was way back before—_years_ back. So this little thought that was lingering in my mind was very unlikely.

Nonetheless, a nagging feeling in my gut suggested just the opposite, and it grew with every second that passed as I drowned in jet black pools.

"Hey _hag_, Hatake's calling you." I snapped out of the trance I only then realized I was in, and, after giving another glare at Sai-the-Jerk, looked up at the silver-haired officer.

In his hand was a smaller piece of yellow paper, and I noticed scribbles of what seemed worth a single sentence. "Asuma-sensei probably won't take 'please excuse her for being late' as enough," I told him.

"Just say I made you run an errand." I regretted ever speaking the moment I almost doubled over due to the sudden mass and force that came out of the blue. It was a pile of hard-covered textbooks that Kakashi had insensitively dumped into my now-aching arms. "Here. Drop these off at the library. That way, you won't be lying."

He gave a strange look as I struggled to balance the twenty books all together, and after a moment, a heavy exhale of breath pushed past the fabric of his mask. "Someone help her out."

"I'll be glad to do it," Sai piped up. I eyed him. _No, thanks_.

"Get back to work." Kakashi indolently replied, "Sasuke, you're done, aren't you? Escort the girl, please." His gaze traced back to none other than the magnet of my attention.

_Sasuke?_

Suddenly, the former feeling that was once only a flicker, now returned ignited. It was not anymore a sense of familiarity but now, I was almost positive I knew him. _How_ I did was the question unanswered.

_Sasuke... Sasuke…Sasuke…_the name repeated itself over and over in my thoughts as I searched for an explanation.

A boy with shoulder-length periwinkle hair grinned widely at the said boy. "Hey Uchiha, snap out of it," he called out in a purposefully loud voice. "You've been staring at that chick _forever_."

I tore my eyes away from the light-haired boy and stared the current subject of my mind. The realization struck me like punch in the stomach.

_Uchiha? _Sasuke_ Uchiha?_

_No. _"No!" I blurted out loud without thinking, and thus earning myself a load of what-the-hell stares from the rest of the class. "No, no, no…" I continued babbling, "It's fine. I'll be fine—"

"I'll go." _Damn it. _

He spoke brusquely, with a voice now slightly deeper than the last I've heard it. He also seemed not to understand the concept of _help,_ because instead of mere assistance in carrying all these books he had seized every single one of them from my grasp. With immodest ease, he lifted the tomes, sending not a glance at my shocked form.

It was the very moment the room's door closed behind us that he turned around and stared at me with uncomforting and utmost scrutiny. "Have we met before?"

"No." I almost dropped with relief, but my heart's pace had begun to pick up.

He shrugged. All interest now gone in his eyes, he put on another stoic frontage and walked down the hall. I trailed behind the Uchiha—keeping a vigilant two-feet-distance away from the said person.

Sasuke had never been the type to start up a conversation, and for this reason, I almost jumped at his sudden voice when he did.

"So it's Sakura, right?" he asked, looking back—and down, given our height difference—at me.

"Yeah," I muttered, turning away as I purposely allowed my odd-coloured hair to cover my face. The less he sees of me, the better.

Unfortunately, our little conversation hadn't ended. The Uchiha choosing to be unusually talkative today, uttered, "Nice name," he gave me an examining look. "Suits you."

The statement caught me off guard. Although my heart seemed to have stopped beating, and breath was caught in my throat, one muscle decided to operate double time: my brain.

Is that a good or bad thing? Did he just give me a compliment? Or was that sarcasm I heard in his voice?

When I didn't respond—which was, even to Sasuke, probably quite rude—he gave up the small talk. The rest of our little walk remained silent, and went well to my liking as we had less or no interaction at all; that is, until he stopped without warning, then—_bam!_

Rubbing my forehead out of humiliation, I looked up to see the Uchiha and the subtle rise of one of his eyebrows. He shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line as he fought back what seemed to be either an insult or a laugh.

Only as he dropped the books on a shelf by the book returns counter that I realized we'd reached the library. The computer lab was found right in the hub of the book-filled room.

Sasuke and I stared at each other. I knew who he was unmistakably, but he obviously hadn't recognized me. I wanted to keep it that way.

Despite the intense heat from the recent summer, he wore black jeans, dark worn-out sneakers, and a black shirt. His eyes, which had always been my personal favorite feature of his overall appearance, were a strange shade of… jet black, and yet so dark that they verged into tints of deep blue, red and purple clashed all together. They were indescribable, beyond words.

How could such a wonderful set of eyes belong to such a horrible person?

There was only one flaw and that was the recognizable scar, a thin yet dire white line that ran diagonally across his left cheek. I flinched at the sight; it looked deep. But I suppose it wouldn't exactly be considered a _flaw_, since it only added good points to his "look".

His eyebrows knitted to sudden frown.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. You just look familiar."

It was my turn to frown. Maybe he…? I doubted it. If he did… well, I'd know. But I knew he was on the road of remembering, thus I had to be careful not to trigger anything more than his already occurring thoughts.

"We saw each other during lunch yesterday. It's probably that," I reasoned.

"Yeah. And in the parking lot. And don't forget by the recreation center, as well."

I felt heat radiating off my cheeks.

"You're turning red," he remarked amusingly. This caused me to flush even more and turn away. His lips pressed in a line once again, its corners turning up slightly.

He opened the door, not entering.

Something in this picture wasn't right. His little deed right there wasn't right. The fact that he was opening the door for me wasn't right. The way he waited on me wasn't right. This whole scene just wasn't _right_.

And yet the scene stayed and hadn't just evaporated like a daydream. He was still courteously opening the door for me, when all the while I thought chivalry had been extinct centuries ago.

Asuma looked at me disapprovingly as I walked through the door. "Late, Miss Sakura?"

"I've got a note." I reached for my pockets. Empty.

To my rescue, Sasuke stepped forward and handed over a piece of paper Asuma. It was the note, I recognized. "She ran some errands for Hatake," he explained. "Please excuse her."

I almost scoffed. _Please? _Since when did Uchiha start saying please?

Asuma sulked, visibly disappointed that he would be unable to send any student to the office today. "Well, take this sheet and grab a computer. Work period today."

I walked away hastily in hopes of escaping Uchiha's stare, which I could still feel on my back, intensely clamped onto my being even as I got to the farthest vacant seat in the room. Candidly, I heard him call out a goodbye, but on purpose ignored it. It was a little mean, but compared to his doings, snobbery was nothing.

I sighed in relaxation when I heard the door close.

"So, spill." I jumped, my peace cut short. "Who's _he_?" It was Ino.

"No one."

"Well that _no one_ just opened the door for you. I never knew guys like that still _existed_."

"Tell me about it," I muttered. "You can have him, though. He's probably single. I don't know why anyone would want to date him. The guy's a pathetic low life."

"Whoa," Ino recanted, "hate much? What do you have against him?"

"Nothing," I lied, again. "Sasuke's just—"

"So you _do _know his name."

I glared at her. "I am _not_ talking to you right now."

I wanted my mind off Sasuke and Ino was not helping in the least, nor was waiting for the computer to load either.

Once the small log-on box had popped out, my fingers punched habitual numbers and letters on the keyboard, and then _Enter._

I knew clearly of the classroom dos and don'ts that applied here in the computer lab and being online during class was a definite member of the "don'ts" list. But that was least of my cares at the moment; from where Sarutobi was, he wouldn't be able to see a thing on my screen, and I had a far more important mission of getting-a-certain-someone-out-of-my-mind to carry out than worry about breaking a few class rules.

Just as I was about to start working though, a soft chime came out of the computer speakers and two blinking window appeared on the screen as well.

**From: Rogue**_**  
[Message 21:40] for whatever it is you think I did, I am so sorry.**_

It was sent just a couple of minutes after I had logged off last night. Initially, I was rather pleased, and the response would've stayed if I hadn't read it over and the lines "_For whatever it is you think I did…" _hadn't echoed over in my mind. But I did, and it made me realize the insincerity of the note.

There was another message posted more recently, and I clicked to read it.

**From: Rogue**_**  
[Message 7:31] I see you didn't reply. Okay, so you probably haven't been able to go on yet. Message back when you do**_

**From: Rogue**_**  
[Message 8:00] now you're just being annoying. Look, I'm not the jerk you think I am. It's not really my fault. Long story. And I don't really want to get into it until I'm sure I'm actually talking to someone other than myself here. Just reply, okay? I meant it when I said I'm sorry.**_

**From: lilpinkchiq**_**  
[Message 9:03] and I meant it when I said screw off. And who goes online at 7:30 in the morning?**_

An answer came almost right away.

**From: Rogue**_**  
[Message 9:04] good. You're on. I apologized already, didn't I? A couple buddies of mine were fooling around on my account. I didn't know about it til I saw my Sent folder. And so what if I was on at 7:30?**_

**From: lilpinkchiq**_**  
[Message 9:07] Quite an overused explanation, don't you think? Ever gone on YouTube? It's always "Sorry! My brother accidentally used my account" or "my friend hacked my account. That wasn't me." And the big deal is that you're on at 7:30 AM. I strongly advice you to get a life.**_

**From: Rogue**_**  
[Message 9:08] it's not me being unoriginal, it's me being honest. And about your suggestion? Forgive me and I might just do so. **_

**From: Rogue**_**  
[Message 9:16] hello? You're not replying**_

**From: lilpinkchiq**_**  
[Message 9:20] can't reply as fast. I'm in class.**_

**From: Rogue**_**  
[Message 9:22] Count your blessings. Better than mine. We're doing some essay on youth law. Boring as hell.**_

_He still goes to school,_ I took note of that certain fact mentally,_ and he doesn't seem to like it very much either. _Maybe he's in high school like I was. Or maybe he was some older, gorgeous varsity guy from university. I suppressed a pleased smirk. Or, reconsidered, maybe he was some fat, big-headed twelve-year-old in seventh grade. The thought made me shudder, this time, with disgust.

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 9:23] careful not to get caught**_

As if on cue, a voice boomed behind me_. "Haruno."_ Instincts kicked in and I hurriedly- yet pathetically- minimized the conversation window, but my attempt was in clear vain, for Asuma, currently standing behind me, had already seen the chat-box. "First warning," he snapped, exiting the window conversation. "Get to work."

As he walked away, Ino's face was practically hovering over mine, her eyes wide and shinning with interest. "Okay, now what was _that _about?"

"Obviously nothing you're assuming it is…"

"I'm missing something here," she reflected, frustrated. "First, some hot guy was flirting with you, and now this, secretly chatting? Since when did you have a love life that I didn't know about?"

"No love life," I told her. "You're skipping conclusions again." A thoughtful pause. "And I was not flirting."

She scuffed, "Well, _he_ was."

"Who? Wait, forget it. A guy bumps into you and you'd think _that's _flirting. A guy looks at you and you'd think _that's _flirting. Get my point? And besides, it'd be so out character for him to actually do what you think he was doing." I couldn't get myself to say "flirt with me", because really, the thought of it was already ridiculous enough.

"And what makes you think you know his _character_?" Ino asked challengingly.

"This is pointless. Stop talking." I dismissed our meaningless quarrel before it got to a sensitive topic that I did not want to cross.

* * *

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 9:30]…you got busted, didn't you?**_

I glared at the screen, hoping somehow they went through the internet and reached him. He had sent the message a few minutes after I'd gone offline, mocking me.

**From: lilpinkchiq**_**  
[Message 16:28] very mature**_

His reply came surprisingly, yet flatteringly, in an instant.

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 16:29] nice. You actually replied. Does this mean I'm forgiven?**_

**From: Rogue  
**_**[Message 16:33] Wait, damnit. Switch to MSN. This is shit.**_

A moment later…

**[Rogue] (View Profile) has added you to his/her buddy list  
****Add to my list  
****Block this person**

I accepted, and as soon as I did, a chat window popped up on my screen.

**Rogue: Hey**

**lilpinkchiq: swearing isn't exactly a helpful thing to do when you're begging for your apology to be accepted. **

**Rogue: sorry. Bad day.**

**lilpinkchiq: care to share? Or are you just getting tired of me? Feel free to log off, I'd be delighted.**

**Rogue: it's nothing. Brainless roomies annoying the hell out of me. The typical.**

_Roomies. _I took note of that word too. He had roommates. He was in college, living with his buddies in a dorm or apartment. One more thing I found out about him.

**Rogue: Its not you though, don't think I'll ever be tired of you pinky. You're too interesting.**

**lilpinkchiq: "pinky"?**

**Rogue: suits you. I'm thinking you're the bubbly, think-pink, girly-girl type.**

It was that last message that brought back the strong, overwhelming notion I thought to have already gotten rid of this morning.

"_Nice name. Suits you."_

Sasuke? Thoughts of him reeled back in my mind. The likelihood that I'd been talking to the last person on earth I wanted to converse with had irked me to no end.

To be frank, it was not Sasuke, but rather, the fact that he opened the door for me that was bothersome. He had been nice, _too_ nice for anyone's good; and he actually spoke to me, to _me_ among anyone else, and that was proof enough that something wasn't right.

A part of me wondered his intentions, whether he had one or not. But another part of me wanted to stop resisting and just accept that he did what he did.

Faults and trouble came easy on Sasuke, simply because he always went about looking for it as his second nature. Therefore, it was no surprise finding him in this special program that gives help to kids- which he clearly needed, in my opinion.

I don't know what he did to get expelled, but it definitely wasn't good. Either that, or he dropped out, simply because he does seemed like the drop-out type. Both ways seemed fitting for the Uchiha.

Because both ways were a failure.

* * *

_**Hozuki Suigetsu**_

Cute, he admitted mentally, grinning as he stared at the retreating backs of the said girl and his friend.

He would've probably described her as "hot" if it wasn't for the amusing, slightly-adorable look that instantly embossed on her face when she heard the Uchiha's name.

As a witness, Suigetsu knew that most would've been, at the least, speechlessly struck with awe and wonder at what the female population called the Uchiha's handsomeness.

He wasn't _that _good-looking, Suigetsu thought smugly, and for that he was thankful for. If he thought otherwise, then something would be very, _very _wrong with him.

But this girl, this chick, was far from awed; it was as though she'd seen a ghost, and when Uchiha stood up, she actually took a step backwards, her eyes wide alarmingly as if he were some appalling spider that had just crawled up her arm.

Any ordinary female would've irritatingly jumped for joy at the opportunity to be alone with Uchiha (that—Suigetsu never really understood) but the chick had the definite opposite reaction. Her head was even shaking the slightest as if to say, "_No, get the hell back down!_"

She was so terrified, it was cute and hilarious at the same time.

But her expression wasn't the best; it was the Uchiha's.

He obviously saw the way she looked at him, and yet, arrogant as the guy was, he pretended not to notice. But that _twitch _he gave did not go unnoticed by Suigetsu; he squirmed (barely) under the odd repulsive stare the girl had given him. Then he tried making it up by showing off, carrying those books all by himself. But, nah… that girl definitely poked a hole through Uchiha's missile-proof ego.

It was quite entertaining, seeing that it wasn't everyday a girl is turned off by the Uchiha, and Suigetsu took joy when that moment finally came.

Once Uchiha was out the door, Suigetsu burst out laughing.

* * *

_Memo: Good news, bad news. Bad? __I broke the laptop (again) for the fourth time and I think it just about wiped out all my chapters. Luckily I had IM backed up on a USB. It's the one thing I've learned from having such a destructive relationship with technology._

_Good? As a birthday present, my parents got me my own comp (flat screen, LCD, high def, high resolution, TV tuner, media center, vista, the whole package) even though I'd broken the old one. x) Life's good. It means I'll be writing more!_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Yours,  
Keelah_


	6. Familiarity

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_Easy, it's okay," he said, speaking to the dog as he scratched its ear, "she's a friend."_

_I blinked. Come again, I'm a what?_

* * *

_**Chapter FIVE  
**__**Familiarity**_

**Rogue: where'd you go last night? You just suddenly signed out and **_**rudely **_**left me. Got abducted by aliens or something?**

It was only when I received that particular message on an early five-after-eight in the morning, as I took in the sarcastic wit of the question and the nonchalance of how he said my new confound nickname that I realized the illogicality of my thoughts the previous night.

As if someone like Sasuke would really go around friendly to random people over the 'net. Impossible. Sasuke was infamous for his not-so-nice persona.

"_What makes you think you know his character?_" Ino's question echoed in my mind, and now I've got just the answer for it. What makes me think so? Only about a hundred things I knew and witnessed. That's all the clear response to that. I don't quite know Sasuke, but I knew of and about him enough to be certain that he wasn't this some-stranger of a person from cyberworld. He _can't _be. No way.

With that reconciled, I responded.

**lilpinkchiq: no. just got kidnapped by the monsters living under my bed. But they brought me back.**

**Rogue: unfortunately.**

**lilpinkchiq: your apology hasn't yet been accepted, FYI. So you better not piss me off or wouldn't even consider it.**

**Rogue: fine, fine, I'll stop. Jeez, the things I do just to please you.**

**lilpinkchiq: you're ticking me off. Shut up, or I'm out.**

**Rogue: now you're just annoying. **

**lilpinkchiq: oops, too late. I'm out.**

_**lilpinkchiq has logged off**_

* * *

"Is there some particular reason why you've recently always been running late?" Ino inquired just after first block when we met up by my locker like we usually did at the fifteen-minute breaks, otherwise known as recess, although students here refused to call it that simply because it was "too elementary".

"I got caught up on some things."

"What things?"

"Like nothing."

"Ouch." She dramatized, "Since when did you start keeping secrets from me?"

"Since you came up with the bizarre idea that the word 'secret' is a synonym for the word, _newsflash_." I retorted. "There's a difference. Newsflash…tell. Secret… no tell. Get it?" She didn't, because she was already standing against the rectangular window about a yard's length from my locker. "You're not listening, are you?"

"Was, but apparently, half naked guys running around a field are much more fascinating than your lectures."

"What?" confused, I made my way beside Ino and tried to find what had captivated her eye through the window. Not that hard to find; after all, half naked guys running around a field was pretty noticeable.

My locker area was on the second floor, so from where we currently were, a large range of vision over the field was easily accessible, but close enough to see their exposed upper bodies as they caught and passed a football methodically.

I noticed three things. To begin with, it was the same crowd whose class I regrettably ran in yesterday, the failures who got kicked out or suspended. On impulse, I searched for a certain someone and without difficulty, I spotted Uchiha Sasuke.

…and he had on a shirt, the second thing I noticed. I felt something in my chest, as though it suddenly was dragged down; disappointment. Not all of them in the field had been shirtless, so they were probably playing on teams of shirts and skins.

Lastly, I noticed how Ino and I had both been staring out the window without any exchanged dialogues for the past uncounted minutes. We would've looked like utter stalkers if it weren't for the amount of other girls watching the same way we did. Even the smart university-tracked girls stole glances as they walked pass.

And we'd probably continue staring if Naruto's obnoxious voice hadn't boomed in our ears. "They're not _that_ good looking." He pouted.

Ino scuffed, finally tearing her eyes off the window pane. "Like _you_ have anything to show."

A grin broke out of his pretty face, "Six-pack, baby!"

Ino laughed, "You wish."

"He…actually sort-a does." Ino stopped laughing and turned to me.

"And how would you know?"

"Uh…swimming? Last summer?"

Naruto's grin widened. "Awesome! Sakura was checking me out!"

Before I had a chance to retort back, he cried out while his index finger stuck out hovering in mid air, "Holy crap! That's Hinata!"

Ino and I instantly turned towards the field where Naruto pointed at. "Idiot." Ino said, "That's a guy."

I gave a quick once over on the said individual playing football along the others in the field. "It's a girl…"

"Ten-Ten!" Ino called out at the brunette that had just walked by. Dragging her closer to us, along with Hinata who was walking with her, Ino, while pointing, blurted, "Is that a boy or girl?"

She examined him…her, "Hinata?"

"She's right beside you! And Hinata's got short hair. This dude's hair is long."

"Long, straight and pretty. It's a girl, Ino." I told her.

"Maybe he's gay…" Ten-Ten stated hesitantly.

"Maybe he has not yet gone through puberty. When he does, he will mature and finally look like a grown young man of youth." There was no question who said it; Rock Lee, who had suddenly closed in behind our backs. Everyone turned and gave him the what-the-hell look he frequently received.

"Uh…g-guys…?" said Hinata, who'd been quiet throughout the conversation. "That's my…cousin…uh…N-Neji. He's a… b-boy."

We all fell into silence; that is, until Ino blurted, "But is he gay?"

* * *

"Hey, hag."

Oh. My. God.

Were my eyes tricking me? I wished greatly they were, and even blinked a couple times to see if this was only illusion. To my dismay, it wasn't. There, before me, the nameless jerk still sat unmoving on the once-empty chair beside mine, instead of him disappearing when blinked as I hoped he would.

I groaned loudly, "Great, it's you again."

"Hey, I'm not exactly thrilled to see you to either."

"Good." I stated, slopping down on my designated chair, "At least we got one thing in common. So what the heck are you doing here?" Why is he here, sitting like an average student when he obviously—supposedly—is not? I mean, wasn't he… part of those failure guys that was said to be in whichever program our school had been supporting? If he was so, then… that mean's he's like Sasuke.

I noticed another unfamiliar individual sitting on the opposite corner of the room; another one of the Failures (and really getting used to calling them that. It's fitting). Again, I wondered, why the heck were they here?

"This is one of my electives." That didn't really answer my question.

"Wow," I said with mock astonishment, "I never considered you as the artsy type."

"Can't we just call it a truce? You aren't holding some kind of grudge 'cause I called you a hag the other day, are you?"

"From what I recall, you called me that a minute ago."

He shrugged, and muttered something that wasn't supposed to reach my ears, although it did anyway. "It's not like I'm lying or anything."

I glared daggers, "Ugh! _You-_!"

"Settle down Sakura." Kurenai Yuhi called out from her desk. Defeated, I slumped on my seat. Sad as it was, none of my friends who were actually of use and fun were in this class; except for Lee, who unfortunately sat in the very same table I did and would not shut up about his adolescent crap, and Choji, whose ill-mannered masticates were deafening.

Despite that we clearly planned on choosing the same elective courses before summer began, my so-called girlfriends decided otherwise in the last minute. Hinata went into Foods; Ten-Ten in Technical Studies; and Ino in Clothing and Textiles, leaving me abandoned and alone in Visual Arts 11.

"You know Hag, you haven't told me your name yet."

Without casting a glance, I replied, "Not really planning to. And I prefer for you not to call me a hag."

"Okay, then, ugly."

I bit my lip before anything barbaric came out. The boy, on the other hand, merely gave a strange smile. It appeared blank and meaningless; dead on the inside. How strange, indeed, I thought, observing.

"I'm not going to stop talking until I get a name." he whispered from behind me.

"How flattering is it that you insist so much on meeting me." I remarked sarcastically.

"Who wouldn't with a girl like you?" he replied, playing along.

"I thought you said I was ugly."

"I know." He replied smugly, and then smiled. "But opposites attract."

I narrowed my eyes, yet there was nothing to stop the amused smile from tugging on the corner of my lips, causing my supposed glare to result into something more playful than loathing. "Charming." I said, mockery dripping off every syllable.

"I know I am."

"And conceited."

He grinned. "I know that, too."

"Please refrain from distracting her any further." Oh that voice, that tone… that choice of words; it was unmistakably Lee.

"You guys are noisy." The standard sound of crisps shortly followed Choji's remark.

"Oh, I apologize." The boy smiled _again_, politely, but just as Choji rummaged through his bag of chips, he muttered, "_Fat-ass."_

"Please just let Sakura sketch peacefully and express her inner youth without being interrupted." And oh how I refrained from smacking the youth out of this guy.

The boy laughed lightly, shallowly, and turned towards me. "Alright, since you're all ganging up on me. I'll stop bothering you…" He paused, "_Sakura_." I raised an eyebrow. He continued, "The name's Sai."

I rolled my eyes, "_Great…"_

Class went by. And Sai stared at me. For the _whole _time, with his expression blank. You can say that I was more or less freaked out by the act. Did he not know that he was being obvious? Or was he doing that to make me feel uncomfortable, on purpose? That jerk.

"Sakura," the boy, Sai, called out as I made my way to the door when the bell rang. "A pleasure meeting you." he whispered in my ear, unbelievably close considering I had only met him. "I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah." He replied, falling pace beside me. "Probably."

"So you go to school here now?"

Sai shrugged. "No; well, not really. Sometimes."

I frowned. What did that mean?

* * *

**(Rogue -Wednesday, 5:40:21 PM)**

**Rogue: hello pinky. miss me?**

**lilpinkchiq: never even remembered**

**Rogue: why, thank you. Your manners never fail repulse me.**

**lilpinkchiq: stop with the formality! You sound so old**

**Rogue: perhaps I am. **

**lilpinkchiq: not really. You're still in school. You were doing an essay, before.**

**Rogue: hm. Observant; very impressive.**

**lilpinkchiq: thank you.**

**Rogue: and you're sure of that? What if I'm some old guy who failed and got held back a million times? Did you ever think of that?**

**lilpinkchiq: hilarious.**

**Rogue: crap, I should go. I've got to do research about penology and shit. Sorry for the language. School sucks.**

**lilpinkchiq: so…what, you take law or something?**

**Rogue: nah**

**lilpinkchiq: so just stuff from socials?**

**Rogue: sure yeah something like that. Listen, I really got to go. Later, Pinky.**

* * *

Uchiha Sasuke and his henchmen weren't in school the next day, nor the day after that. I caught a glimpse of them on the weekend while in Ino's dad's car as he drove us to the mall. As we passed by, I saw the guys scattered in the small park across the Rec. Center.

Monday came regularly and _they _were back. Except for that fact, my morning classes were the usual.

And for that reason, never would I have expected to find myself standing stiff and alone before a giant black dog, showing off its sharpened fangs—teeth that would easily slice through any human flesh.

It was near the end of lunch, right after I parted from Ino and them, when the sounds of high spirited barks derived from the grass field behind the auditorium building, drawing me into a short alley that lead out to the big field. A minute later, I was standing in front of a monstrous animal that, if upright, would've probably been as tall as I was, if not taller. Now on all-fours, the dog reached above my waist.

Carefully, I backed away. The demon (or dog, they were basically synonyms in this case) sensed the slight action, and made a sound that most people would describe as… barking. But this wasn't any ordinary _arf-arf _or _bow-wow_; no, this sound was a thunder that just happened to erupt from a canine throat.

I jumped, and the dog sensed that too; within a second, the animal broke in a sprint. I screamed at the same time someone shouted, "Oreo! Sit!"

Miraculously the dog sat, settling itself to merely snarling. But its chase for me was over and that alone was relieving enough.

A chain leash was snapped its collar. With the dog now restrained, I dared to look at it. It was a Siberian husky, I recognized; but god, it resembled more like a wolf than a dog.

As I looked further up to see who had been the savior, my stomach tightened. There, knelt down beside the husky, was Uchiha Sasuke looking up at me.

"Sakura, hey." He greeted, immediately recognizing who I was. "Sorry about that. He got away from me." The dog produced a thunder-sounding bark once more, and I jumped. "Sit!"

Sasuke held a firm grasp on the leash as the dog tugged forcefully at it, and his biceps visibly tightened when he pulled the animal back. I could only hope he was as strong as he looked. "Easy, it's okay," he said, speaking to the dog as he scratched its ear, "she's a friend."

I blinked. Come again, I'm a _what_?

"And you too, relax." He spoke almost teasingly. "Don't worry, he wouldn't have bitten you." Yes, I'm sure, I thought sarcastically.

"Is he your dog?"

"Kind of. Yeah, but not really." I saw him hesitate, "It's…complicated."

What's so complicated about answering a simple yes-or-no question?

"It's Hatake's," he reasoned, still unsure, "_Technically_. But I'm sort of… taking care of Oreo in the meantime." _he's babysitting a dog?_ I thought stupidly.

In desperate attempt to avoid another one of those awkward silences that seemed to always be present between him and me, I said, "So, Oreo. Nice name." Once again, I felt stupid.

But he replied with a proud look on his face, "I named him. Oreo, 'cause of his color." Uchiha Sasuke named the dog by its color—named it _Oreo, _for Christ's sakes. What was the world turning into?

"I'm Sasuke, by the way," he said rather awkwardly, "I told you the dog's name but I didn't tell you mine. Kind of stupid of me, huh?" I gave a small nod but remained silent. "So did Asuma mark you late the other day?"

"No, thanks to you. I totally forgot about taking the note from Sir Kakashi. But then again I couldn't. Kakashi had already dumped the books in my hands before I could take it. After that I was too busy balancing a dozen books all at once." Crap. I was babbling, _again._

Sasuke smirked, "As I recon, _I _was the one who carried all the books. You didn't even try to get the books back."

"Even if I did, you wouldn't have let me since you were too busy showing off." His laughter was cut short when someone wailed from afar.

"Sasuke?" Standing several yards away was the four-eyed girl, poised with both hands on hips on the end of the pathway. She frowned at the displeasure of seeing me. "_Sasuke_!" she yelled louder and held up a dog's leash in the air, "Help me with this leash? It's so confusing!" Oh, please. She might as well have been in a skating rink seducing some guy to tie the laces for her because it was _so totally_ confusing. Her cry for help couldn't sound any more fake.

Out the corner of my eye, I caught Sasuke shake his head in a frustrated manner. But when he turned to me and stared, his frown deepened.

"_Saassuukkee…_" came the whining voice.

He sighed sharply, "Listen, I know I already asked, but…"

"Sasuke!"

"I'm coming, Karin!" he yelled frustrated and then looked back at me in an analyzing manner, "You sure we haven't met before?"

"No." I didn't hesitate. "I would've remembered."

Suddenly, he grinned, just about looking flattered. "Really?"

I flushed. "Wait. No, I mean—"

"Hey, it's fine." He was _still_ grinning. "I…know what you mean…I think."

"_Uchiha Sasuke! Come here _now_!"_

He squirmed. Then, glancing at me, he forced a smile, "Sometimes, I feel like _I'm_ the dog, you know?"

"You should probably go," I said, "…if you still want your head attached to your body."

He smirked, "Yeah." He paused for a moment, "I… feel like I know you." he chuckled nonchalantly, "Weird, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, "weird."

_Not really_, I thought as he walked away. In fact, it wasn't weird at all.

* * *

**(Rogue – Monday, 4:15:05 PM)**

**lilpinkchiq: hey, question?**

**Rogue: Sure**

**lilpinkchiq: do you think we've ever met?**

**Rogue: if we ever did, I bet you're that pesky little girl next door.**

**lilpinkchiq: and I bet you're that fat old man across the street that still lives with his mom.**

**Rogue: Ouch**

**lilpinkchiq: LOL**

**Rogue: hm**

**lilpinkchiq: what?**

**Rogue: I just wondered**

**lilpinkchiq: Wondered what?**

**Rogue: what your laugh might sound like**

**lilpinkchiq: …that's either really sweet or really creepy.**

**Rogue: okay, now you're just making fun of me. I'm gone.**

_**Rogue has logged off**_

* * *

"How sad is it to see you sitting here by yourself, all alone."

I stopped in mid-sketch and looked up to see the speaker. A second ago, I was settled peacefully alone in one of the many garden benches scattered on the edges of the school courtyard where I've been since halfway through lunch; a second after, I found my prior peace rudely disturbed and invaded by a smiling jerk named Sai.

I scoffed, "Is that some kind of pick-up line you got from flirting-for-dummies-dot-com as a way to tell me you want to sit down?"

"No. It's to tell you that you look like a complete loner at the moment."

"I have friends, unlike you. I just want to be alone right now." He sat down beside me. "Did you just miss the part where I want to be alone right now?"

"Usually, when a person wants to be left alone, it's when they need people the most." He explained nonchalantly.

"Where'd you get _that_ from, counseling-for-dummies-dot-com?"

"Nah. Just some counselor who's a dummy."

"You go to our school counselors? How lame is that?"

"Very. But I had to. They made me." I was just about to ask when he said, "Don't ask. Forget it."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. Sai stared off into the stunning landscape of the school courtyard; while I, on the other hand, stared at him, realizing that he looked a lot like Sasuke. Both rather cute. Actually, both very cute.

Suddenly, he turned to look at me, then grinned, "See something interesting?"

I realized then that I'd been staring and for how long, I dreaded to know. I snapped, "Something ugly, yeah."

"Ah, you must've looked into a mirror."

I scoffed. Sai then glanced over my shoulder, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Gaara's staring at you."

"Who?" I whipped my head around and saw the red-head freaky looking guy from the cafeteria, looking right back at me all the way across the garden.

I frowned, "He was staring at the caf too, the other day."

"Maybe he's appalled by your overly dyed hair," Sai suggested.

"It isn't dyed, for your info." I snapped, completely forgetting about Gaara. "It's natural."

"Then, man, you're more of a freak than I thought."

"Sai!" A deep voice that belonged to Morino boomed. "Get your ass here now!"

"_Oooh,_ someone's in trouble." I teased. When a staff calls a student in an uncommon time like lunch or class, and especially if that staff was the school _officer_, it pretty much meant trouble.

Sai shrugged as he got up, "I'll see you tomorrow." He called out as he walked away. "If Morino doesn't murder me."

* * *

_**Yamanaka Ino**_

The moment she saw Sakura's display picture, Ino knew something was up—something very interesting.

**omg-its-ino: What's with the dp?**

**lilpinkchiq: nothing**

**omg-its-ino: oh please, you're pic wouldn't say "so there's this boy…" for nothing. Not to mention it has a **_**heart.**_** So what's his name? What does he look like?**

**lilpinkchiq: It's just a picture.**

**omg-its-ino: So you don't know his name? You don't even know what he looks like?**

**lilpinkchiq: Shut up Ino**

**omg-its-ino: so this only means one thing. You met the guy online **

**lilpinkchiq: I don't know what you're talking about**

**omg-its-ino: never knew you were the type to believe in cyber-romance**

**lilpinkchiq: its not romance. I'm not in love him.**

**omg-its-ino: Aha! So there **_**is **_**a guy?**

**lilpinkchiq: ugh.**

Ino grinned. Hours later, after finishing the two projects she did last minute that was due by tomorrow, she came back to the computer and saw Sakura was still online. She grinned again.

**omg-its-ino: you still awake?**

**lilpinkchiq: yeah**

**omg-its-ino: you still chatting with that guy?**

**lilpinkchiq: What are you, psychic or something?**

**omg-its-ino: just doing my job as a best friend**

**lilpinkchiq: Again, ugh. Go away.**

* * *

_Read, Review and Thank You!  
__Keelah_


	7. Unearthed Loathing

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_He wanted so much…to make her feel pain, at least the physical pain of it, because the girl have probably never even experienced a bruise before…never tripped, never scraped a knee, never been hit…_

…_and he had—so many times._

* * *

_**Chapter SIX  
**__**Unearthed Loathing**_

The first thing I noticed on Wednesday morning was that they were gone…again. I knew this as a fact because the failures were neither in the PE wing or any of the fields, which was where they almost always were.

Early the next day I found myself looking up at the wall clock for about the hundredth time that hour, anticipating for its hands to strike twelve and signalize lunch. But I wasn't in a stereotypical dull classroom with a dull teacher teaching a dull lesson. Instead I was in the library, spending my free period by volunteering to help with little chores that were to be done, if organizing a whole shelf of books would even be considered _little_.

So far, I've sorted textbooks alphabetically by author, and then grade; restored returned books in its own designated shelves; and now currently headed to one of the many desks to do some paperwork involving records of students' overdue library books. It was voluntary, but I _had _to volunteer if I ever wanted to gain credits that'll help me into university. Apparently, sorting books chronologically in their racks for over an hour and a half can actually get you somewhere in the future.

As I headed over to the large rectangular desk backed up in the corner of the study area by the glass walls, I spotted a familiar old man already there, with scattered papers on his right and a mug of coffee on the other.

I hesitated, but the old man already noticed me and smiled, nodding to a chair. "It's alright. Come and sit. The table's more than big enough for two."

Nodding politely, I went and sat down about two seats away from him. "Rei Watkins." He introduced himself, and it was then that I recognized who he was. Mr. Watkins was a well-known teacher in twelfth grade, rumoured to be tough as hell. An hour in his Law-twelve class equaled to a day in brain-boot-camp, according to the seniors. He was the kind that everyone dreaded for being so severe, so don't even dare discriminate him by his years. Though he was old, around his sixties, that businessman-like attire made him look stricter than any ordinary retired old fart out there.

"Sakura." I said, as I laid my own pile of papers and folders upon the table. He glanced at them.

"Helping out, eh?" I nodded, and he did too. "Good kid."

_Arf-arf_, I felt like a dog that'd just done a good sit and roll; but I suppose I should appreciate it, really. A feared teacher like Mr. Watkins probably didn't give out that much compliments to just anyone.

A whoop of laughter suddenly echoed loudly through the halls as the school's backdoors that led outside swung open, revealing Sasuke and his crew fresh from the fields, still hot and sweating. Even through the thick glassed walls of the library (hence the students' nickname for it: the Bubble) their continual chatters still came through obnoxiously. One of them, Sasuke, glanced at me. I could tell he was about to wave his hand, but when his eyes flickered to Mr. Watkins, he frowned and turned his back. I watched as he, along with the others, disappeared into the boy's changing rooms.

"Those troublemakers," Mr. Watkins grumbled.

"I heard they all got expelled from school." I said.

The old man snorted, "Oh they got expelled, alright. But the reason isn't failed grades, skipping or bullying—all of which I'm sure they've done too. They were expelled because they're criminals. That Hatake and Morino and the government calls them young offenders, but really, that's just a codename for future _convicts_."

I figured a person like Mr. Watkins, a highly educated Law professor, a decent old man who had the vision to give kids a decent future, naturally wouldn't be fond of teens like Sasuke and them who were rebellious and much too ignorant for anyone's good. "Criminals?" I echoed.

"Every one of those kids has been in trouble with the law. And I'm not talking about jaywalking or vandalism. I mean serious trouble. Now some dimwit thinks these _failures _can change by training a bunch of dogs. They should be sent away, if you ask me. Juvenile court has gone way too soft.

"We can't even know what the hell those little demons did." Mr. Watkins spat grumpily, "They can go around and stab somebody and we won't know a thing about it. They're the ones protected by the law."

When the bell rang, Mr. Watkins stood up and gathered his things, "Well, I should get going. Complaining about those felons ain't worth my paycheck. Goodbye, Miss Sakura." He left before my mind caught up on everything he said.

* * *

That afternoon, I saw them at third block running around the field as always. This time though, I found myself pissed as they'd been occupying a field that was supposedly ours for the day.

Grouchily, we all headed back inside. But before completely doing so, I risked one glance back.

_He_ was concentrated on getting the soccer ball past the goal posts just like the rest of them, but his focus didn't last long. Suddenly he halted and turned to look at me.

We stared at each other for a long-lasting second, before I slipped through the opened door and escaped his sight.

* * *

**[naruto-uzmki –Thursday, 03:48:01 PM]**

**naruto-uzmki****: SAKURA! ****guess what? I met some of those guys you & Ino are so obsessed with. Hozuki's a real jerk. Juugo's okay; but he acts like a retard sometimes. Then there's this nerd, Shikamaru, with the pineapple hairstyle. He's in my math. Kiba's the guy with triangles on his face. He's got a puppy; since you're a girl, you'll probably find it adorable.**

**naruto-uzmki: and holy crap. Neji. hin's cousin. Can't believe they're related! He's weird. But hinata is too. maybe it runs in the family.**

**lilpinkchiq: I don't really care Naruto**

**naruto-uzmki: but wait! there's another one. The bastard. He's in my class. He's ok. Kinda. Real ass though. dude thinks he's all that just cuz he's an Uchiha**

_**lilpinkchiq has logged off**_

* * *

Today was supposed to be a good day. It was Friday; the morning was bright, the sun was shining, it's not too cold, and my first class went by like a breeze. But I've never had so much difficulty in getting from my first class to second than today.

There were two routes I chose from: on the second floor through the overpass that connected two of the school buildings, or down out the first building, walk a short distance just by the edges of the field, and then back in the second building. I chose the latter for the sole reason that my previous class was PE; and hot and sweating, I hoped the cool air might fresh me up.

But the moment I was out in the open air, the first thing I saw was Sasuke's mob dispersed in the grass playing soccer. That wasn't the worst of it. It wasn't long before I noticed Sasuke himself standing only a few yards away, _staring _at me as though he knew the exact moment I was to walk out the doors.

I could tell this wasn't one of the times where he was affable and responsive, because there was nothing friendly about his expression.

_Oh, crap,_ I thought and tried scurrying away from the group unnoticed. But the attempt was futile when I found Sasuke standing on my path within the next second.

"It's been bothering me ever since the first time saw you," his eyes were stone hard, like cement itself filled them. I waited for him to continue, knowing his next words in advance.

"…you're that girl who turned me in." he spat.

Unpleased by my silence, he took a step forward, and another and another until he was only a foot's distance from me. He glared down with iced obsidian. In a lighter mood, Sasuke's eyes were the most beautiful thing on earth, and when they gazed at you, they made you feel as though you were as beautiful and special. But now those orbs looked down on me, glaring…threatening. I realized that he was trying to intimidate me, just like how he did back then. And though it worked, the proof of which were my insides uncomfortably churning, I stood my ground.

Yes, he was big and looked like he could do some serious damage on me if he wanted to. And yes he was taller, much taller than he appeared from far away, and definitely taller than the last I've seen him; it seemed unbelievable now that I was once actually an inch or two taller than him back in elementary. But if I ran off, he'd think I was scared—and though I was, a little bit, in no way would I give him that satisfaction of winning.

"So?" I held my voice as firm as I could.

"You recognized me, didn't you?"

"And if I did?" My attempt to sound brave failed. He closed that foot-worth of proximity between us. As though we were magnets, both of the same side, I stepped back. When you place the negative side close to another negative, instantly, both will back away. That's what happened. He took a step forward, and out of instincts, I took one back. "You don't scare me." I hissed…and lied.

"Then why'd you pretend you didn't know me?" he leaned closer, in front of my face. "Huh?"

Annoyance slowly yet heatedly boiled inside me. The way he thought he could just scare me; who did he think he was? I bit my lip to prevent anything stupid from coming out of it.

"I'm glad you're here, Haruno." Sasuke whispered in my ear low enough so only both of us could hear. It would've been a sweet scene to look at from afar, but once you listen closely to Sasuke's tone, the menace was clear. "It'll give me a chance to get you back for the fucking act of _kindness _you did for me a long time ago." He hissed, and smiled at me.

I could only stare at him. I was shaking, and I didn't know whether it was from fear or anger. I wanted to hit him; slap him, do _something. _But there I stood like a helpless statue.

A hand suddenly landed firm on Sasuke's shoulder, pulling him back. He didn't budge. "Let's go, Uchiha," Neji spoke cool and reservedly. The hand restraining Sasuke was of a brunette guy who I recognized from Naruto's descriptions was Shikamaru.

"It's not worth it." Neji stated, flatly. "She's a girl. You'll look stupid hitting her." It was only then that I became aware of Sasuke's balled fists, which were shaking noticeably.

Sasuke chuckled, "Yeah, but it sure as _hell_ would feel _satisfying_." he growled with eyes ablaze.

"Just drop it." Shikamaru spoke, pulling him back forcefully and this time, he succeeded. "You'll get us all in trouble. You wanna beat her? Do it outside of school." I glared at the pineapple head. He shrugged, muttering, "_Troublesome_."

"Uchiha, get away from her," Sai's voice came to my rescue. He headed our direction and stood between Sasuke and me. The rest of the guys stopped their game to stare at us—or me to be more exact.

Sasuke, completely unaffected by the fact that all his friends had just turned against him, chuckled scathingly, "Saved again. Huh, _princess_?" he emphasized, _spat_, the last part with much disdain.

I glared. It was all I could do. That, and run away.

As I blinked, wet droplets rolled down my cheek. It was only then that I realized I'd been crying, or if not, teary-eyed. In front of Uchiha.

Pathetic.

* * *

"They're so hot," Ino muttered as she stared out the window at the subject of her attention.

I thought back on the red-haired freak and the boy from my art class who had oddly been staring at a… bug, insect, spider, or whatever that black dot had been on his finger. "Not hot. Just freaks of nature." I replied, "You know they're troublemakers right? As in, in trouble with the law?"

Ino grinned, "Little Sakura caught up on the news. Suspension program? Stupid. So last week. Everyone knows that it isn't just rules that they broke."

"Ever wonder just what they did?"

Ino shrugged, "Definitely not just cheating on the finals. Probably stuff like bullying or theft or joyrides or something."

"You sure that's all?"

"Sure. What else could they have done?"

"I don't know, maybe… assault?"

"Like, physical assault? Fistfights? Sure, that could be it."

"Or something more brutal." I murmured. "So what do you think of Neji?"

"Hinata's cousin? Sexy."

"No, I mean like, it's weird, isn't it? Hin's family is high-class. Decent and respected. Now we find out that her cousin's a felon?" she gave a shrug for an answer. "And what's with the dogs?"

Ino looked at me irritated, "What's with the questions?"

"Nothing… just… thinking out loud."

Just as the bell rang, signalizing the start of the weekend. Ino was gone along with everyone, rushing out of the room, eager to be off the school grounds.

I, on the other hand, wasn't in much of a hurry. Standing up gradually, I turned to the window next to me and stared upon the same boys Ino had been closely watching a minute ago. Ever since this morning, I had made it my mission throughout the day to avoid Sasuke and his friends as much as I possibly could; so far, I'd been able to carry out that mission successfully.

"If I were your age, I'd be sneaking a peak too."

I swished my head and saw Kurenai with a knowing smile on her face. I looked back at the guys who were out on the field. When Kurenai was my age, she must've went for the hot, daunting, dressed-in-black type of guys; either that, or she was talking about Kakashi—which was rather unlikely since almost everyone knew about the thing going on between her and Asuma. Or perhaps she was talking about the dogs… perhaps not. I decided on the first one.

"I heard they're lawbreakers." I stated flatly when I was sure everyone had left the class.

She frowned, "Who told you that?"

"Mr. Watkins." I stated, "He said they each got in trouble for violent crimes. That they're here for some pointless program that won't do any good. I think he's right."

She shook her head.

"I don't get it," I went on, letting my eyes focus on Sasuke. "Why go through all this trouble for a bunch of guys who aren't willing to straighten up? They clearly don't even give a crap about anything."

"You don't know that. They're young; they can change." _I really doubted that_. "And they _do_ care, or otherwise they wouldn't be here.

"They had an option. It was this or community service. Almost all the kids chose the latter, which consisted of having to complete a certain number of hours ranging from twenty to forty each week.

"This newly-established program, on the other hand, is five days a week for however long it takes depending on their… history. It's a much bigger commitment than garbage duties."

"So what's with the dogs?" I muttered, "I don't see how that's going to help."

"Training the animals… takes control and patience, something they need to work on. By changing and taming these dogs, it helps them too."

"Is that a fact or theory?" I asked sarcastically. Kurenai didn't reply. She simply stared at me with studying eyes, as though she was trying to understand my fairly-stereotypical, not-so-complex outlook on these damaged goods that they were hopelessly trying to make better.

"Do they go to school here now?" I asked to fill the silence.

"No. Some of them, sometimes."—I supposed this program had some arrangements too complicated for me— "The program is supposed to help them adjust with others. Make friends. It won't hurt. Most of the staff are strongly against it, though." Something in her tone told me she wasn't. "But it's safe. They're on constant supervision under Morino and Kakashi."

_Safe._ The word echoed in my mind. Why? Why wouldn't it be safe if they _weren't _under the two cop's supervision? What will they do?

Or in contrast, what had they _done_?

* * *

"Sakura!"

I turned to see Sai as he made his way through the thick crowd of students scattered in front of the school. "Wait up!" the boy was out of breath by the time he caught up beside me. I watched him unresponsively.

He twitched, noticing my intended silence. "Listen, forget about this morning." I shrugged, not quite looking at him as I preceded walking. "Uchiha's an asshole. He's always like that. Don't take it personally." I laughed ironically. If only he knew.

"You shouldn't have stood there like a helpless child, though. It'll only encourage him more."

"What was I supposed to do?" I snapped, "Talk back to a bunch of guys who can clearly break my bones to pieces? No thanks."

"Hey, relax." He recoiled, "I'm just saying, you know? You shouldn't have been so scared. Say something really smart and throw him off. Girls do that a lot, don't they?"

"I was about to punch him." I announced adamantly, "But pineapple head got in the way." I paused. "And I wasn't _scared._"

"Sure, anyway, he wouldn't have hit you," I gave him a look. "…I think. Okay so he was thinking about it. But he wouldn't have. He knows the rules."

"Rules?" I asked, now curious. "What rules?"

"That's not the point."

"What rules?" I repeated.

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Sakura…" he murmured in barely audible volume. "You shouldn't be so nosy. Some things are better off unknown."

"What?" I asked confused.

He shook his head once more, "It's nothing."

"Sai!" boomed the voice of Morino.

He groaned, massaging his forehead almost regrettably. "It's nothing. Forget it. I was babbling. I don't even know what I'm talking about."

"Sai!"

"I should really go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sai!" I called the third time, but he was already disappearing within the student crowd.

* * *

I was summoned to the office first thing when I got back to school from the weekend.

"Am in trouble?" I asked the moment I entered Kakashi-sensei's office. I hoped I wasn't, but the reason why I was here better be good, because I was currently missing P.E., a class which I happened not to mind, and my name had just been announced embarrassingly over the P.A. system.

Kakashi slowly tore his eyes off his orange book to look at me. "Sit, this won't be long. I just wanted to talk to you."

I sat down. "What?"

He didn't reply, instead he picked up his book and began reading once again. I stared at him, waiting. We remained without exchanged words for minutes that felt like hours.

"So," he said, finally, "Kurenai tells me you know about the program and the boys."

By this I was startled. "Oh." I said, "So _that's _what this is about?" I was a little annoyed that I'd been ratted on.

"Don't be mad," Kakashi said, reading my mind, "It's not only her. Sai too, he's pretty concerned for you." I felt angry at Sai for telling Kakashi—just how much he told him, I dreaded to know. "Kurenai told you the reason they're here, didn't she?"

"Yes. Because they're hooligans."

He frowned. "No. Because they choose to be here, to have a second chance. They had an option and they chose the right one."

"What's so special about this experimental program anyway?"

"It's called the Youth off the Streets Outreach Program, and it gives troubled teens a chance to straighten up their life again and make friends. It's a bigger commitment. Part of Outreach is training a dog that's in line to be put down—that exercises their patience and control, and they go through more anger management sessions than you could imagine."

"Seems like a waste of time, if you ask me. I mean, what are the chances they'll really change? They're hopeless and dangerous criminals."

He looked at me with a disappointed eye, but did not say a word. I squirmed uncomfortably. "You really think that about them?"

But it wasn't _them. _It was _him._ _He _was hopeless. _He _was dangerous. _He _was the criminal.

"I'm sorry about what happened yesterday," he said suddenly, solemnly, when I didn't respond. "I gave the boys a good lecture about it. They won't do it again."

"Sai told you about that too, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"_Joy_," I muttered.

Kakashi shook his head, defeated. "Well, that's it. I just wanted to apologize in behalf of the boys. You can leave."

"Fine."

Just then, I halted in front of his door, holding the door knob though not entirely twisting it open. A question passed my mind. "One more question?"

"Yes?" he asked distractedly, his mind now devoured by that orange book.

I hesitated, "How's that case going? You know, that old man in the alley? Have you found out who killed him yet?"

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, surprised by my inquiry. He probably expected something to do with the program-guys. "No," he answered. "He wasn't killed."

I was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"It was… a false alarm, I suppose," he hesitated, "It wasn't a murder. According to the evidences found in the alley, the man had killed himself."

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

It was in that particular moment when he caught her staring at him from within the library that made him realize why his insides had been churning lately.

Much to his irritation, she'd been unconsciously doing that to him these past few days, as if it was his body's reflexive reaction to freeze and tense up every time she was around. An odd, nervous feeling would overwhelm him the moment he sees her, but it wasn't long before comfort and ease would take over whenever he looked up at the green orbs that spread a sense of familiarity in the Uchiha.

And it wasn't just every time her presence was near. Every now and then, he would feel her gaze on him from afar as he played in the fields, and he would instinctively show off in whatever sport they were playing.

Whenever he saw her, Sasuke felt both at ease and nervous, his mind and chest threatening to detonate at the overload of mixed feelings; she gave an effect on him in a way that no other girl could ever do. And it annoyed him to no end why it was so, since he had never really _felt _anything until earlier this week when she came along.

The answer occurred to him (very much to his dismay) when he saw her with that stupid old man in the library. The old man, Walters, or Watkins or whatever his name was, had been heatedly hating on him and his _group_ the moment they stepped through HL's gates.

He was actually about to wave hello but soon saw the old man with her. It was then that he noticed the look she gave him, not anymore pleasant and amusingly surprised like it always was. This time, her gaze was the opposite, almost… _condemning _that it bothered Sasuke; it angered him, even, when it occurred to him that the change of her outlook towards him was a doing of the old man.

The recognition of loathing and revulsion in Sakura's eyes followed afterwards; it was evident even though they were yards apart; so oddly familiar.

It wasn't until they entered the changing rooms that realization hit him… why he recognized that look she gave him.

It was because he received that exact same look before, from the exact same girl, nearly five years ago.

_Haruno Sakura_.

Her name was echoing, over and over, and memories involving her annoying pink hair and irritating preppy voice flashed back in his mind.

When he caught up with all the memories, finally taking in the sudden realization, he huffed sharply.

"No fucking way…" he whispered to himself, staring blankly at the row of lockers in the changing room.

_Haruno Sakura_.

Now he knew what he felt weren't because he _liked_ her—a ridiculous conclusion suggested by his know-it-all rival Hyuuga Neji and smart-ass Nara Shikamaru. In truth, it was just the opposite of that, the complete and total opposite.

Once again, the girl was giving him mixed feelings. He dreaded the war and chaos that was sure to break out between the two of them soon—and in no doubt would be very bothersome, yet a part of him was pleased that she had walked into his life once again after all this time.

It would give him a chance to pay her back for all the things she'd done, since he never really got to do that after his sudden obligation to leave.

He knew that she knew for quite some time now and had recognized him, but was too afraid to do anything about it. Sasuke chuckled. She couldn't even fend for herself, and needed others to do that job for her. How pathetic is _that_?

Everything about her vexed the Uchiha to no end. The list was endless: how she's so pathetic and weak… how everything just goes her way… how she thinks she knows it all… how she was faultless that she probably never jaywalked or failed an exam, just like how any other normal teenager does at least once in their life, or how she's the little perfect princess her own freaking perfect world.

Someone should really talk some sense of reality into Princess Sakura, because she obviously lives in some made-up fantasy that was most likely perfect too.

He had been so close to punching the daylights out of her this noon. After years and years of experience starting from the early age of eight, he became so good at masking his feelings that even Sasuke himself didn't realize he was angry until the suppressed emotion exploded—almost exploded, in this case, as he would've really hit Sakura if Shikamaru hadn't held him back.

He wanted so much to do it… to make her feel the pain, at least the physical pain of it, because the girl have probably never even experienced a bruise before…never tripped, never scraped a knee, never been hit…

…and he had—so many times.

He knew how it felt very well: what pain is like… what loss is like… the numbness… and Sakura probably never did, and never will because her universe was flawless, vastly worlds apart from the hell he lived in… and the nightmare he never woke up from…

_Why the hell was everything so unfair?_


	8. The Tension of Opposites

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_World War III was about to erupt between the two of us._

_Either that, or it already did._

* * *

_**Chapter SEVEN  
**__**The Tension of Opposites**_

The shocking new information sir Kakashi told me back in his office was declared on the news- both on television and radio- throughout the week. Nearly half of the channels included a reporter in a suit saying words along the lines, "_Formerly known dealer commits suicide in an isolated alley" _or "_Old man kills himself for reasons yet to be found." _The old guy was a drug dealer- that was news to me; but it wasn't of any significance.

I wanted to watch a movie or a mindless sitcom, anything to get the image of that dead old man off my mind; and the news wasn't helping the slightest.

My parents were gone for longer than they promised- something I had gotten used to- and now the house seemed eerily silent. I shut my eyes close, tuning out the voice of the newscaster and even the creepy stillness that surrounded me, and focused on the rapid beating of my heart. It went on speedily circulating blood throughout my guilty self.

Back then, more than two weeks ago, I would've thought it'd be better off if I kept silent- it was what I thought a safer decision and would lessen the possibilities of being pursued after; that strange car incident was enough to prove to me that being chased by bad guys didn't just happen in movies. The cops would eventually capture those men, I thought, and I would be safe then. But what happens now when for some reason, everyone believed that false bizarre idea that the old man had killed himself? The police would stop the investigation with the thought that the case was over, and those men would continue to roam about freely in the city. It made me shudder just thinking about it.

Even if I had the courage to tell the entire story to the police, what was there to say? Yes, I saw the men, but my account wouldn't be of any help anyhow. I hadn't seen anything, or at least anything that's beneficial. They wore dark hoodies that concealed their faces, but so did a lot of men out there; they had tattoos of strange signs and symbols, but then again, so did a lot of other weirdoes.

Thoughts continually circulated my mind, and having to deal with Sasuke did not make things any better, however it was not something I could avoid. He wasn't in school for two days- and it was starting to bother me why they were away so much- but for that, I was thankful for. My good fortune didn't last; he was back on the third day.

In between classes, he tried catching up to me twice, but in both times, I successfully escaped his sight by turning around the corner, and then sprinting as fast as I could to disappear into the crowd.

I did manage to dodge him throughout lunch, but I couldn't do it all day; I wasn't that lucky.

At the end of the day, I saw Sasuke standing deadly still along the hallway with his arms folded stubbornly across his chest. I admit the scene was cute in a childish way, which surprised me since even though Sasuke _was _cute, a little bit (alright, so maybe a _lot_) he was not at all childish. He was way to scary to be compared to a child.

Initially, I though he'd just positioned on a random spot to brood, but as I approached closer, awareness hit me that he was leaning against a locker that was right beside mine- an act that was too precise to be unintentional. Before I had the chance to hesitate, he tore his eyes from the floor and looked at me.

It was too late to turn back then, so I kept my head up and pretended not to notice his presence. I proceeded towards my locker, turning the combination quickly so that his eyes wouldn't catch it.

He was awkwardly close, yet I was the only one to feel the awkwardness; he didn't seem to mind the close proximity between us since he didn't move even an inch away from me. I acted tough and pretended not to care as well.

The locker door swung to the right, where the Uchiha was located, so I was thankful when it blocked the sight of him as I opened it, giving a bit of a break to relax. Self-consciously, I placed my binder and textbook back in the shelf of my elongated locker, and then randomly organized some things too.

I took my time, displeased as I ran out of stuff to relocate, so I took out my lip-gloss and started applying some on my lips. I did it perfectly, stalling as much time as I possibly could. I noticed about half of the crowd from ten minutes ago was gone, and the hallways were slowly being isolated. After there was nothing else left to do, I gave up and closed my locker shut.

I gasped, jumping at the sight of Sasuke positioned on the exact same spot I last saw him, still ever-so-close to me as he was before, staring with one eyebrow raised.

He was as tall as me at the present moment, I noticed, but only because he was slouching against the wall of lockers.

I took a deep intake of breath in, and slowly exhaled, calming myself and regaining my composure. Sasuke's bangs fluttered lightly at the breeze of my breath. That didn't help my attempt on breathing; his eyes on me intensified deeper, and air jammed my throat.

"What?" I blurted.

"I wanted to apologize…" he drawled out halfheartedly, "about last Friday…"

I narrowed my eyes. It didn't take a genius to track down the insincerity that enveloped each and every syllable of the sentence. "Okay. Apology _un_accepted." I whirled and walked away.

He remained still in his place, watching me with a gaze I felt drilling on my back. Just as I began to think that he was finally leaving me alone, Sasuke fell in a pace beside me and strode in a casual manner like us walking together was a normal occurrence.

"Just let me finish, Haruno," said Sasuke.

I rolled my eyes. Suddenly, I thought of something incredibly stupid and, to be honest, probably pathetic. But it did no harm trying. After a few moments of walking in silence, I broke in a sprint towards the end of the hall and ran out the school doors. Unfortunately for me, there was no crowd to dissolve into this time.

I heard the Sasuke groan several steps behind me. "Stop this foolishness, Haruno," he called out. When I kept on running, I heard him mutter, "You are _so_ annoying…"

Halfway through the front yard, I heard the doors swing open, and fast approaching footsteps followed immediately afterwards.

The following events occurred too fast. One second, the street I was heading towards was empty; but as I neared closer, a car came into view in the corner of my eye, a little too late for me to stop my tracks.

My scream blended with the screech of the vehicle's tires against the pavement as it stopped just an inch from shattering my legs and hipbone and perhaps permanently paralyzing me for life. Yet despite that I still thankfully had limbs, they didn't seem to be working at the moment, so I had to lean against the car's hood for support from collapsing right there and then.

I was still out of it when the driver poked his head out of the window, yelling a series of profanities. Unable to move, I simply stared at the exploding man—an action that seemed to infuriate him further—until two hands pulled me off the car. The vehicle swept pass swiftly and uncaringly a second later.

"You are _so _stupid!" Sasuke spat each word with rage, shaking my shoulders as if I wasn't already shaken up. "Do you even _have_ a brain? Are you—!" He stopped. When I looked up at him, I saw that his lips had tightened into a thin line, as if trying to hold back the criticisms that I was sure he still had to say for me. He raised a hand, massaging his creased forehead while the other remained on my shoulder, giving me the stability I acutely needed. "At least kill yourself when I'm not around, okay?"

"As if you'll actually cast a glance if I bleed to death on the road." His next words, though I had never at all cared about what the Uchiha had to say about me before, affected me, in strange way.

"You know what? _Die _for all I care, because, honestly, I don't really care at all. But just for the record, I _would _cast a glance, at the very least, because I'm not _heartless_."

"What do you want, Sasuke?" I snapped, my patience running low.

"I want to—" he paused, rephrasing, "I _have _to apologize for last Friday. It was rude of me, to get in your face like that." He wasn't even look at me, he was look past my shoulder, towards a tree, or air, or who knows what.

"Do you really mean that?" I asked, my tone heavy with sarcasm for I already knew that he didn't.

"I _have _to mean it…" he grumbled.

I gave a light laugh, "Guess I can't expect more from someone so shameless."

His eyes hardened on me, glaring so hard that I felt a strong urge to back away.

"Listen," he spat. He'd been uncharacteristically… well, _nice_ wasn't the right word for it, more like _civil _for the past few minutes, save for his perplexing outburst at my near-collision incident, and it was only now that he began showing signs of irritation and perhaps loathe that he undoubtedly felt towards me.

"You don't like me? _Fine_. It's not as if I like you either, but just because Kakashi said I have to be nice to you doesn't mean I'm not taking any of your I'm-too-perfect-I'm-higher-than-everyone attitude. That's bull. You should know that Kakashi won't be around twenty-four-seven to keep me from hurting you. I will, without hesitation."

My blood was starting to boil. World War III was about to erupt between the two of us; either that, or it already did. How _dare _he threaten me? Who does he think he is? "And you just said you weren't heartless. Tell me… is threats and violence your idea of fun?"

"No, but giving your clueless mind an idea of pain may prove fairly entertaining."

"What are you gonna do?" I challenged; and then, in a low scathing hiss, I sneered, "_Smash my head on the sidewalk?_"

That hit a spot. I knew it, _felt _it, even though he was being every bit obvious. Every bit of his body froze with the exception of his balled fists that were shaking with what I could only describe as pure rage. He remained still for the longest time until the shaking began to slow down, and he had somewhat calmed himself; the rage contorted in his face did not leave, though. Disdain returned in his voice; he chuckled. "Fighting you would look stupid. And it'll hurt my rep if anyone sees me hitting a little girl."

I forced a laugh, "Since when did you care about other people's thoughts? As if going back on _one _hit would all of a sudden change your reputation—which, clearly, is already damaged beyond repair."

He stared darkly, leaving me distracted by hue of his orbs that I didn't notice the proximity between us until he was at already two inches away from my body.

Sasuke leaned down and finally broke his gaze- but this did not give me the relief; it only worsened when I felt his cheek brush on mine and his breath on my ear. It tickled, and I wanted to squirm away, but the magnetism was too much- whatever happened to theory of us both being the same side of the magnet, instantly shifting away when the distance was too close? We were, at that very second, opposites; different sides of the magnet…drawn together…one.

The moment was ruined, demolished, when he spoke.

"_I'll hurt you,"_ he whispered. I closed my eyes as a shudder traveled down my spine. "What the _hell_ makes you think you're any special, that I won't have guts to beat you up? What the _hell _makes you think you're better than everyone, than us, than _me?_

"Newsflash, Your Highness, no matter what you're parents told you throughout your childhood, you're _not_ special and you're _not _better. You can disappear, and the world will _actually _still revolve without you. You aren't that important. Get it? You mean nothing. _Nothing_, especially to me, so don't even _think_ for a _second _I won't hesitate to follow through my threat. Now go screw off and play _princess._"

Ouch.

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, _ouch._

For some strange, stupid, infuriating, unknown reason, that _hurt. _But all of a sudden, the aching pain focused on my knuckles, spreading throughout my fingers as Uchiha Sasuke's face collided with my fisted hand.

He swore, staggering backwards, but this moment of weakness didn't last as long as I hoped; being experienced in the area, he quickly regained control and within a second, I was down on the ground, breath knocked out of my lungs.

I couldn't breathe. For one thing, the sudden ache that shot throughout my back took me by surprise, and its numb yet painful soreness spread out much too sprawling to be pinpointed in just one spot. Sasuke had slammed me _hard _on the concrete ground; and though I knew for a fact that this act was no surprise, that this was just so _Sasuke_, I was startled, disappointed even, and afraid.

For another, Sasuke was basically sitting on me in the most uncaring manner (but again, that's just him being himself) and he wasn't exactly who I'd call _light_. Sasuke's weight crushed my stomach and ribs, and it was too hard to open up enough space in my chest cavity to take in the adequate amount of air that I desperately required at the moment.

Hands shot out from nowhere. A pair caught Sasuke's descending fist, stopping it before it fully hit me and permanently damage my face, and another pair of hands heaved him back.

It was Sasuke's pack that had intervened, coming from nowhere to my rescue within a second. It took two of them to restrain Sasuke from putting me in a comal state, while it only took one arm of the pineapple-head to hold me back. The boy appeared so at ease that I wondered how weak I actually was at the moment, and then thinking how little chance I actually had against Sasuke—I assumed it was around the negative hundreds.

Sasuke was yelling an endless chain of profanities, mostly to me, and sometimes shouted at Kiba and the bug-boy from Art, Shino, who were both withholding him, to let him go. They didn't, thankfully.

The guys hauled him back towards a van that was parked on the north side of the student parking lot, scolding him, but Sasuke wasn't listening. Instead, he was lost in his own world, with me as a subject, muttering the phrase _"Annoying bitch" _over and over again…

* * *

Kakashi hadn't lied when he said the guys were in under supervision at all times. Even during the… _fight, _(or, to be more fair, me-punching-him and then getting my butt saved by his friends) when I _thought _he wasn't around, well, I was right, he wasn't. Kakashi stood at the second floor of the Fine Arts building right beside a window that clearly overlooked the front yard of the school.

He saw that I had been the one to hit Sasuke first, and I admitted that, but Kakashi didn't seem to be very concerned on that fact; if _pleased_ was overstating it, then he was at the very least _amused._ Anyway, he minded more about how Sasuke attacked me, made a bigger deal on his faults instead of mine- and I wasn't complaining.

I was called, via P.A. system _again_, to the Office the next morning- it was my second time within the last month, and it effectively broke my previous record: zero.

"So," he began when I entered his office, "That was…quite entertaining."

"It was his fault too," I said quickly.

"I know. I already talked to Sasuke. He acknowledges the fact that he had a part in it." His voice sounded solemn, and he looked down, like he was recalling something.

"Good," I stated.

He frowned for a split-second, and then shook his head, "It wasn't all-Sasuke. _You _were the one who punched him, and though I think it did a positive damage on the boy's ego, you shouldn't have, so there are consequences for you as well." I took a deep breath, waiting for the rest. "I'm phoning your parents, plus an in-school detention, during break, lunch, and an hour after school for a week. You'll either be glued on the chair or helping the teacher; whichever works for the supervisor."

"Would _he _be there too?"

"No…" for a monosyllabic word, Kakashi stretched it out far more than necessary. "Sasuke's…taking a bit of a break right now. He won't be back for awhile."

"Kind of about time his parents did some disciplining, don't you think?"

In a low voice he said, "His parents weren't the one who made the call. I did."

"So what, his parent's finally realized the pointlessness in disciplining the hopeless wild-child?" I asked, adding a hint of humor, but Kakashi hadn't found it funny- not a bit.

His eyes hardened, and for a moment, I was terrified. His patience for me reached the point of zero, and though he _looked _calm, the rush of words that came out from him showed the opposite.

"No, his parent's did not realize the pointlessness in disciplining him, because he doesn't _have_ the satisfaction of having parents who are _alive_ and can _be_ there to instruct you what and what not to do, or who can punish you when you did the wrong things."

Oh, right. Sasuke. Orphan. How could I have forgotten?

"…he doesn't have any close family to live with either, except for one, but _he_ is ineligible."

"Sasuke lives alone? He's, what, seventeen? Is that even legal?" I couldn't help it. When you live with a lawyer and a former police officer, you tend to memorize just about all the national laws there is, both what's legal and not.

"He resides in a group home with some of the kids in the Outreach program, kids who share a similar background to Sasuke's, lives that didn't turn out so great," Kakashi explained.

It took me a second or two to take in the information he had just loaded onto me. Sasuke's parents being gone…Sasuke living in a group home—the latter surprised me, in a way. If Sasuke's was gone, I guess I sort of expected him to be staying in a big large mansion, recklessly wasting all of his inherited wealth, rather than residing with a bunch of his kinds- which, now that I think about it, was a very expected future for him, it was just so…_Sasuke._

"I never knew that."

Kakashi sighed heavily, "There are a lot of things you don't know, Sakura, that's why I ask you to be considerate. Sasuke, not just him, but every one of these guys, they've experience much more of the bad side of the world than you have. You don't understand, but at least consider their side before you judge."

"So this is my fault now?" I asked defensively, "Just because my life isn't as screwed up as theirs? As Sasuke's?"

As he sat there, frowning, staring at me, it was obvious what he was thinking. He hadn't even tried concealing it like he most usually does. Evident all over the surface of Kakashi's solely visible eye was disappointment, exclusively directed to me.

* * *

Sasuke didn't show up for school that day.

He wasn't there the next day either, nor the day after that. The weekend passed and I still haven't seen him.

It wasn't like I was _waiting _for him or anything. Nope. It was, as I've told myself time and again, plainly an observation. His absence was consistent; never was Sasuke with his friends anymore when they ate in the cafeteria, or use the school fields- which were the only two things they did here. Now and then I'd see the guys hanging around the sidewalk athwart of the rec. centre, or just outside its entrance, usually as I'm arriving from school- but Sasuke was with them at neither times.

But I had to admit, without Sasuke's presence lingering around every corner like trouble ready to pounce, it had been more comfortable for me, and it felt like I was in my school again, good ol' H.L.A. before the intruders came. Ironically, though, I'd gotten to know some of those intruders, like Kiba, during the period of Sasuke's absence. That did not change much though; as individuals, some were okay, but I wasn't friends with _all _of them; most I remained to keep a safe distance from. As a whole, they were still generally who I'd call troublemakers, okay or not.

I met Kiba once through Naruto after school one day; I only spoke a single word to him in total (which was "Hi" and I'd remained silent afterwards) but already I liked him- he was better compared to the other guys he normally hung out with, and it wasn't just because he owned he cutest little puppy. He was almost as friendly as Naruto, almost as nice, though at the same time, almost as annoying and obnoxious too. Their chemistry was obviously the reason to their friendship; how they could stand each other though, was beyond my comprehension.

From Kiba through Naruto, I discovered quite a few things while Sasuke was, as he said, "gone". For one thing, I learned Sir Kakashi had a lot of dogs; I mean, a _lot_, more than he would ever admit. And these dogs that they were training were his. I found out that he likes dogs too, and handles them well –which was good to know, since that meant Kakashi took interest in something other than pornography.

They were divided in two groups; one handled by Kakashi and another by Morino. Only Kakashi's group worked with dogs; Morino's "troop" sometimes did, but mostly they "engaged" in strict discipline and "army-like" exercises (which were Sai's own words in describing Morino's ways).

Another thing, these guys get way more counseling and anger-management consultations than us Academy students get those extremely boring Literary-improvement talks. I found out about that from Kakashi- who apparently does all the talking in those discussions.

When I had asked about Sasuke (of course, I always did so indirectly. Not that I _always _asked about him or anything) Kiba always said he was "gone" the same reply I got from Kakashi when I asked him. Well, _no duh_, he's obviously not here; _gone where_ is what I'd like to know.

One time though, Kiba grinned and replied, "Let's just say Uchiha's not exactly all-that thrilled to show off his new black eye. Especially since it came from a girl." Then, he'd wink and say nothing more.

Nevertheless, I wasn't entirely happy about Sasuke's absence either. Something was missing without him; maybe it was the tension I'd grown accustomed to whenever he was around, or maybe it was the lack of something to stare at outside the window during classes. Either way, it was bugging me, and all this unhelpful sayings that he was "gone" is beginning to make me think he's dead, and so _that_ bugged me even more.

What bugged me _most _was the fact that in my mind, I was looking for Sasuke, wanting to know where he was, when all the while I wanted him gone, out of my life once again; the tension of opposites.

All in all, it had been an incredibly sluggish, lazy, unproductive week (excluding the meeting-Kiba-and-adorable-Akamaru part) full of mind-numbing in-school imprisonment supervised by an incredibly weird teacher; really, his name shouldn't be Gai- it should be _Gay_.

And so it was a relief to find a new message blinking on my desktop when I logged on, from a certain someone who, for some reason, was currently making my heartbeats faster.

**Rogue: hey. Where've you been? You've gone dark for days. No contact at all. What did I do **_**this**_** time?**

**lilpinkchiq: nothing**

**Rogue: you're not mad at me? I thought you were mad at me.**

**lilpinkchiq: no, I'm not. I'm glad you're here**

**Rogue: great. so what's wrong?**

**lilpinkchiq: what do you mean?**

**Rogue: something's bothering you. **

**lilpinkchiq: it's nothing**

**Rogue: then it's all the more something.**

**lilpinkchiq: **_**what?**_

**Rogue: simple. You said it was nothing, then obviously, it's something. I'm not stupid**

**lilpinkchiq: I hate you for being so observant.**

**Rogue: hate yourself for being so transparent. And stop trying to change the subject. C'mon, I'm making it my mission to cheer you up.**

**lilpinkchiq: it's really nothing. Just school. Nothing interesting. **

**Rogue: I'll listen. Tell me. **

_Oh my gosh!_ A voice inside screamed, although outwardly, I forced myself to remain calm- since that attempt was obviously too late for my inner-self. I'll admit, that was perhaps the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me, but I tried to convince myself that this was the internet, and it probably didn't mean anything at all. Nevertheless, inside, I was screaming.

**lilpinkchiq: had a really crappy week… cuz of this guy…**

**Rogue: you have a **_**boyfriend?**_

**lilpinkchiq: Ugh, no. I hate him.**

**Rogue: oh. Good.**

**lilpinkchiq: what? **_**jealous?**_

**Rogue: oh yes. Very **

I was tongue-tied. Thankfully, he didn't wait for my response.

**Rogue: … I was kidding. So what of this guy? He seems like a bastard.**

**lilpinkchiq: he is. He got me in trouble, now I got detention for the rest of the week. I barely have time to do anything. I'm piled with stuff to catch up on now.**

**Rogue: so, basically, he's the one who kept you from chatting with me?**

**lilpinkchiq: yes. basically. **

**Rogue: is he close to you?**

**lilpinkchiq: not. at. all.**

**Rogue: good. Cuz I really wanna punch him in the face right now.**

**lilpinkchiq: no need. I already did.**

**Rogue: sweet. Anyway, I got to go. Sorry I couldn't cheer up. Bye pinky.**

_**Rogue has logged off.**_

It was only then that I noticed the rapid beating in my chest. I felt my face warming up, and I bit my lips to prevent a smile so wide it hurt my cheeks. Why did he have such an effect on me? I told myself again and again that this was over the internet, and the chances of him meaning the things he said would be in the negatives. Besides, his username included _rogue_, and didn't rogue mean someone insincere? But for some reason, for a lot of reasons, I couldn't imagine him a rogue. He wasn't. And he was able to make me forget about my crappy week.

Quickly, I right-clicked the rogue's name and clicked _Send an E-mail._

_To: Rogue_

_From: lilpinkchiq (lilpinkchiq -at- hotmail. com)_

_You did cheer me up. Thanks._

I hesitated, before adding,

—_Sakura_

I clicked _Send_ before I had time to change my mind. In a way, I hoped that, since I signed my message, he would sign his, and I'd be able to find out his name. Almost immediately, a reply came.

_To: lilpinkchiq_

_From: Rogue (anons24 -at- kss. edu. com)_

_Anywhere, anytime. Feel better, Sakura._

Well, that was just unfair. He didn't tell me his name. But that didn't really matter at this moment; because, at the moment, my heart was fluttering, I was blushing, and my stomach had butterflies, in a very cheesy way like in those romantic movies. Yes, I compared it to a _romantic _move, because, honestly, that's what it felt like, yet at the same time, I felt utterly pathetic.

Because, really, how stupid was it that I'm crushing on a mystery boy from cyber world?

* * *

I was comparable to the walking dead the following morning, a result from waking up every ten minutes or so and sleeping restlessly in between the last night. My brain was overfilled with Sasuke and the fact that he'd gone missing without a trace, and I couldn't get my mind off a particular stranger either, no matter how hard I tried.

The bags under my eyes must've been apparent since Ino, usually the last person to notice something that doesn't involved herself, commented about how _hideous _I looked very first thing in the morning.

Miraculously, the moment I entered my first class in the morning, Chouji noticed too, which meant he actually made the effort to look _away_ from his bag of chips and actually think of something other than food; for instance, how horrible I looked.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" he asked politely, though I could sense the sheer sarcasm behind the words. I twitched.

"No."

"Oh. Well, good, don't, at least not when I'm around. I don't want to go deaf once you do."

"Shut up." I growled, slumping onto my seat as the teacher began talking. It was art, and it was a miracle I was even about to concentrate long enough to hear instructions- it was a free-sketch; basically meaning you can draw whatever you wanted. In a way, it was sort of a free block, except your work had to be handed in by the end of the block.

And so, I grabbed a pencil and paper and let my mind and imagination carry me away.

As though Sasuke's prolonged absence and crushing (I refused to think that I was falling in love) on the cyber-rogue hadn't strained my brain enough yet, seeing the constant news about a murder of an old man- now being declared a suicide- did not make things any better. It caused the resurfacing of unwanted memories and a nagging guilt of that afternoon nearly two weeks ago. And there was nothing I could do to avoid it because it was all over the news. The old guy, apparently, had been wanted long ago, known for dealing drugs, and the cops couldn't find any reason that he'd want to kill himself. Of course there was no reason, I thought to myself, because he _didn't _kill himself! Stupid cops! Gosh!

But then, I stopped myself. It had nothing to do with me. That gang probably already forgot about me by now; who would remember a pesky little girl?

And so it was all three of those merged together, swirling round and round in my mind that kept me from sleeping last night; the same thing that was keeping me from concentrating on my current work right now.

Suddenly remembering my work, I looked down on my paper, only to see an insignificant streak, scrawled across the white sheet. At first, I stared blankly at it, until something in the back of my mind clicked and I realized what it was.

Quickly, I crumpled the paper and shoved it deep in my pocket. It was that symbol, or dirt, I saw tattooed on that man's wrist, the one hidden in the alley's shadows, whose imagine was still as chilling as it had been before.

Just thing about him, I felt my anxiety increase, like a snake gradually creeping up my back. Then, my thoughts halted.

Snake.

Snake!

I pulled out the piece of paper, and stared at the squiggly line with a dot on top. That was it. It was no meaningless squiggle.

It was a snake.

* * *

_**Nara Shikamaru**_

_That was one awesome hit she landed on the Uchiha_, Shikamaru thought.

He almost admired her, almost, if she wasn't so troublesome to hold back. The girl had a monstrous strength that it made him wonder if she was even a girl at all.

Most of the guys were in awe of her, which really pissed off Uchiha, not that he wasn't already pissed off in the first place.

It served him right, and as much as Shikamaru would like to rejoice at the sight of Uchiha's evidently bruised ego, he couldn't; since now, the so-called great prodigy was grumpier than he originally was, he looses his cap at the smallest things, he slams their room's door at friggen _one in the morning,_ he's too busy sulking that his stuff was everywhere, and he acts like a cranky old hag, all because he couldn't accept the fact that little candy girl punched him square in the face.

And what's even more troublesome was the fact that Shikamaru had to deal with Sasuke's crabbiness even more than the others did, since he shared the room with the prodigy.

_Ugh_, Shikamaru thought, _this is such a drag…_

* * *

_Special thanks to everyone who reviewed. Wish I could give you guys a cookie or something. And to people who don't leave a comment but read this story, thanks as well! I appreciate that you guys actually take time to read all the crap I write. Heh._

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Early Merry Christmas,  
__Keelah_


	9. Research

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Rogue: a little Google never hurts._

* * *

_**Chapter EIGHT  
**__**Research**_

"What is that?"

I whirled my head around, startled by the voice that had suddenly thundered into my thoughts. Looking up, I saw Sai staring at me with a raised eyebrow, evidently puzzled and amused by my alarm. He was tilting slightly to the side as he tried to get a glimpse over my shoulder. Actually, he wasn't trying. He already had a clear and steady gaze on my sketchbook.

Instantly, I snapped it shut. "Nothing," I replied too quickly. Calming myself, I spoke again, though slower this time; more in control. "Doodles. Random things. I'm just brainstorming right now."

It was much easier to control the pace and level in my voice than that of the swarming thoughts of my recent, sudden realization. It sent chills throughout my body, although I did not quite know what difference it gave. No. I _did_ know. Now I knew something; a symbol of…something; them, or perhaps their leader, or their cult—whatever they were. Though it wouldn't exactly help the police track them, at least they'd know who to look for, and that there _were _people to look for, rather than the unconvincing conclusion that cops had at the moment.

I asked myself, what now? Tell and be useful—and possible be in danger? Or not tell, and be useless—although certainly safe?

Sai didn't give me the chance to decide on my thoughts. Before I got further carried away, his inquiry brought me back to earth. "But you've been working on that one for an hour now." An hour? I'd been lost in my mind for that long? Finally, he turned away from my closed sketchbook and looked at me as though I was the weirdest person I the world. And by my currently actions, I probably appeared like so. "What's it suppose to be anyway?"

"I don't really know. When I brainstorm, I don't know what I think." I replied, quite unthinkingly. "But now I realize that it sucked, so I'm starting a new one."

"You've only got fifteen minutes left."

"I'll manage." I snapped.

"Okay, you hag," Rolling his eyes, he leaned back on his seat, "Don't need to get all cranky."

"Then don't bug me."

"I'll always bug you. Always." he reasoned, as if that itself was solidly rational. "So what's up with you today?"

"Nothing."

"But-!" he bit back his words, his mouth suddenly forming an O, as though he had all of a sudden realized something significant, something that explained all. However just as I thought he'd finally began to comprehend my lack of patience, and that I was not in the mood to tolerate any of his conceitedness, his following words prove me wrong. "Oh," he said with much understanding, "It's that time of the month, huh? So _that_ explains why you're extra hideous today…"

I growled, sending him glares that he was surely immune to by now. Customarily he tilted his head in a slight manner and smiled, just as he always did when he knew he'd won the recent quarrel.

But something differed this time, something I couldn't quite put a finger on.

* * *

I was back in detention later that afternoon, but Asuma—who regularly locked me up in a classroom and forbade me to do anything for more than two hours, and the one who usually supervised—wasn't there. Gai had filled in for his spot todat, something that I was grateful for, given that the bowl-haired teacher was undoubtedly more lenient.

I helped Gai arrange the PE equipments and setting up V-ball nets for a tournament that was being held after school; though the work was exhausting, it was undeniably better than boring myself to a state of deadness. At least setting up the courts gave me some kind of distraction, something else to focus on other than the word _snake _and _tell_—the only two words that were wedged deeply in the caverns of my mind throughout the whole morning.

The downside of it? Kin had PE that very same block, which meant I just happened to be at the receiving end of all her dirty looks for the entire hour. The girl completely loathed me, as I did her. The tension began in a small, rather unimportant volleyball tournament that I won, and she lost, back when I was an eighter and she was a nine. She had exploded, enraged by the fact that a little freshman—and I meant little, as in less than five feet—had outdone her. Long story, but it went on from there. Sometimes she sent me, as childish as it was, hate mails; they were nothing but empty though, seeing as Kin had never followed through with her threats.

Anyway, I finished half an hour before the dismissal, so Gai gave me free time for the rest of the block, just so long as I stayed in the library.

That was fine with me so long as I was out of sight from the bratty Kin. In fact, it was more than fine; and since the library had computers, the very first thing I did was sign on my messenger. Almost instantly, a window popped up.

**Rogue: Online in school?**

**lilpinkchiq: Free time.**

**Rogue: You out after school? **

**lilpinkchiq: nope.**

**Rogue: that sucks. You okay?**

**lilpinkchiq: fine. Just bummed out. **

**Rogue: Talk to me.**

I hesitated, before continuing.

**lilpinkchiq: Suppose you saw someone getting…injured**

**Rogue: how injured?**

**lilpinkchiq: Very injured. Like, not-breathing-injured.**

**Rogue: As in **_**dead**_**.**

**lilpinkchiq: hypothetically. Would you tell the cops?**

**Rogue: what's there to tell? Did you see who attacked the man?**

**lilpinkchiq: yes. **_**Hypothetically**_**.**

**Rogue: Okay. Fine, hypothetically. No.**

**lilpinkchiq: Why not?**

**Rogue: better not to get involved. It's dangerous. And no one likes a rat.**

**lilpinkchiq: So, what, you'll just walk away? Just because you're afraid to be called a rat?**

**Rogue: yeah, I'll walk away. I'd shut up too. Not for image, but for my life. Gangs like those don't just leave you be, you know. They'll come back.**

I pondered on his words for a moment. Talking to him did not give me the assurance I both needed and expected. Initially, I thought he'd tell me to tell the cops, because throughout the time I spent chatting with him, I got the impression that he was a good guy.

Now, clearly, I had to reevaluate.

**Rogue: so are you going to grass?**

**lilpinkchiq: what?**

**Rogue: are you going to the cops? Tell them what happened?**

**lilpinkchiq: This is just a made-up scenario. Hypothetical, remember?**

**Rogue: You're not a very a good liar. **

I frowned. After a while, unpleased with my lack of response, another instant message came up.

**Rogue: Did you see them? Did you see anything about them?**

**lilpinkchiq: I didn't see anything. It's all hypothetical. **

**Rogue: you did, didn't you? Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation.**

**lilpinkchiq: could you stop interrogating me? Whatever. Just forget everything I said. I'm going.**

**Rogue: Don't be a grass, Haruno.**

**Rogue: Better keep your mouth shut**

_**lilpinkchiq has logged off.**_

Something changed. My heart was beating furiously, the usual aftermath at every end of a conversation with the Rogue. However this time, it was due to _anxiety_. I sat back, fighting off the shudders that were climbing up and down my back. What just happened?

Opening the message archive, I read over our preceding conversation, checking to see if it wasn't only my imagination, if our chat had truly transpired the way it did. As I scrolled further down, the last message at the very end caught my attention. The demand, because it surely did not sound anything like a suggestion, echoed repeatedly in my mind.

_**Don't be a grass, Haruno.**_

I read it over, again and again, staring at the particular line, until I realized something out of place, something that did not make sense, and instantly my stomach began churning.

I never told him my last name.

* * *

I spent my after-school time in a clogged up classroom, trying to catch up on every lesson and homework I missed while I was away being tortured with sheer boredom and isolation, though of course isolation was much better than spending time in the presence of other troublemakers. That was part of my routine now, to go to at least two of my classes' every day after school and get as much work down as I could—because if I didn't, and wait till the end of the week, I'd most likely be buried alive by tons of homework packages.

At one point, I looked out the window and was surprised to see the program guys out in the field with their dogs. Sasuke wasn't there, though. Really, I should be getting used to his nonattendance by now. Perhaps he wasn't coming back, and that was good—I persuaded myself—he'd be out of my life again. On the other hand, there shouldn't have been reappearance in the first place.

I focused back on my worksheets. Without Sasuke, there wasn't much to look at, and I wasn't about to stare at a bunch of strangers. After twenty minutes or so, they finally left.

It was around four o'clock when I finished as much as I could and left the school. There were no more students left in the building; and if there were, they were probably stuck in a classroom making up work just as I did. I was free, at least for the rest of the day. Exiting the school, the cool wind of autumn breezed pass me, and I dramatically inhaled, taking in the peaceful sight of the empty schoolyard and softly whipping orange leaves across the grass.

However, as my eyes swept over the entire area, I realized I was mistaken. The school's front plaza _wasn't _empty. Only a few yards away before me, leaning against the railing of the entrance-stairs, unaccompanied, arms crossed and head bent down, was the red-head freak. Or as Sai called him, Gaara. Either way, he was still rather creepy, and proved more so when he looked up –slowly—and stared at me.

I squirmed uncomfortably. Where was the rest of his posse? Hadn't they left already? If so, then what was he doing here? Alone?

Brushing off the mental questions aside, at least for the moment, I stood up straight and strutted right past the red-head as if he didn't exist. In the corner of my eye I spotted his gaze following me until I could see him no more.

Once out the school complex, I entered a narrow trail in the woods. It was a common trail that students passed through everyday, thus it wasn't normally as isolated as it was right now; but it'd been more than an hour since our dismissal, so it only made sense.

However, it didn't feel as solitary as it should've felt, being by myself in a mass forest. After a few more minutes of walking, the impression that I wasn't alone only grew stronger. A thought, a gut feeling, began to develop in my head, and suddenly, I was got the inkling that the area was not as isolated as it appeared.

Instinctively, I looked back and saw, with much surprise, an indistinct image of an individual far down the end of the path, lagging behind several meters away. Hands were tucked in his sweatshirt's pockets and head hung low; clearly this was not a person who wanted to be seen nor recognized.

His outfit, probably supposed to serve as his camouflage, had ruined his disguise. The all-black attire had done none but only draw more attention to the crimson strands that stood out noticeably, jutting from underneath the dark hood that did a good job of concealing one's face; except that didn't matter. I'd know that bloodshot hair color anywhere. _Gaara._

I snapped my head back facing front, wondering why in the world Gaara was following me. Maybe he wasn't, I tried convincing myself, although it was obviously otherwise. Unconsciously, my pace accelerated, and the distant sound of footsteps behind me did the same.

A thought suddenly crossed my brain. When the guys came to the cafeteria in their first day, Gaara had been staring at our table. Similarly, I caught him staring when I'd been talking to Sai out in the courtyard a few days ago. Now, _this_. I came down to only one assumption. _Gaara_ was _stalking _me.

For a while, I pretended not to have noticed him. We walked in an eerie silence for a few minutes; but never once did Gaara try to catch up to me. He always kept a steady couple of yards away, striding the same pace as I did. Eventually, I got fed up with our little cat-and-mouse game.

The trail took a sharp turn to the right, and, following it, I stood around the corner, letting the thick bushes conceal me. My wait wasn't long. In no later than a minute, a red blur appeared and at once, I jumped out of hiding and shoved the hooded figure to the ground—or, to be more specific, _tried _to shove. In what seemed like a reflex, Gaara caught my arms, holding them firmly to my side as he rolled over and fastened me to the ground. The action was alike to that of Sasuke's; however, there was a slight dissimilarity. It didn't hurt as much—or actually, it didn't hurt at all—when Gaara slammed me down (or, expressly, _placed _me down) on the ground. Using his arms, he supported himself so that his weight wouldn't crush me, in large contrast to what Sasuke had done.

All the same, I still found myself in an almost identical situation I was in not that many days ago; really, I should stop jumping onto people who was clearly thrice my size and strength.

As I struggled, Gaara, whose hood had fallen off in the process, stared at me with a cocked eyebrow, tilting his head slightly aside that it was almost cute. Or, entirely cute.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked astutely.

My cheeks burned; from anger or humiliation, I didn't know. "What are you talking about? _You're_ the one on top of _me_!"

"You're the one who pounced on me. Am I really _that _irresistible?"

Managing to slip my hand out of his grasp, I reached out, but he grabbed a hold of my wrist again before I could hit him. "Whoa. Temper." I glared. He didn't seem to mind, though. "You have a lot of courage for someone who's pinned to the ground." He added.

"Will you get _off _me?" I shrieked.

"Okay, okay. I'm off." Gaara said hastily, before I began freaking out, and got up. He silently watched as I did the same.

Quickly dusting off my clothes, I turned to him. "Stop _stalking _me." I snapped.

For a few seconds, Gaara only stared as though he had not the slightest idea what I was talking about. Finally, he replied, "I'm not stalking you."

"Oh?" I asked suspiciously, "Then why are you following me?"

"I'm going the same way you are. I live a couple of blocks from your house."

"Then how do you know where I live?"

"I see you walking home when you pass by the community center." He replied like I should've known that. Then again, I really should've, since I saw him and the guys at times whenever I walked home from school.

"You were watching? And you keep staring at me at school too!"

"Sakura, you have hair that's _pink_. It's kind of impossible _not _to stare."

"So how do you know my name?" I questioned once more, unwilling to give up.

"The Uchiha talks about you." he replied casually, then, muttering, "…a lot."

"Oh." I was astounded, least to say, and for a moment I ran out of questions, until another one came up to me. "What does he say?"

Gaara smirked. "That you're annoying."

I twitched. "Yeah? Well, he's a _jerk._"

"I'll make sure to tell him that."

"Good." I snapped, and suddenly paused. "You've seen him?"

"I live with him."

"Ew." I blurted before I could stop myself.

Gaara rolled his eyes, "Not like _that_. We live in the same pace. The other guys do too. We go to the same school." …but I haven't seen him in school for days. Then, as if sensing my thoughts, he explained that going to HL was only whenever they needed a spacious field, or apparatuses to work with.

"You don't attend Hidden Leaves?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Hell, no. The Academy's way too bratty. I'd freak if I had to go there." He seemed to have forgotten that before him was a student of that very Academy. "We go to Konoha Secondary School, the one by the rec. or, in it, to be more specific."

Konoha Secondary. I've heard the name, I knew it was a school, but I never really knew where it was. I never even knew there was a school inside the community buildings, or next to them. On the other hand, the Recreational Center _was _a little overly sizeable for it to just be what it was; and I've always wondered what the extra building beside it was for. Now I knew.

Eventually, we took into conclusion that he had not been stalking me; and though I was a little doubtful, I let it go and proceeded walking home. Somehow, before I even realized it, Gaara had would up ambling beside me. While I fidgeted uncomfortably, he was very at ease—as if us walking together was only typical.

The rest of our walk took place in silence—and that was fine with me. I was pondering the things he said about Sasuke, or, specifically, the things he said _Sasuke_ had said. He talked about me? The fact caught me off guard. I thought Sasuke had spent his every minute trying to forget about me. He must've been complaining, then. Like Gaara said, Sasuke thought I was _annoying_.

Gaara halted, but I kept walking with the thought that he'd catch up. He didn't. I turned to him, "What's the holdup?"

He stared at me for the longest time. Then, finally, he nodded over to his right, where a neatly-designed three-story structure was planted. My house. "Oh."

I walked back to where Gaara was standing, trying to hide my reddening cheeks in the process. After slipping through the small black gate of our front yard, I gathered all the confidence I had left (which wasn't a whole lot, considering all had been drained the moment I realized I just passed my house) and looked up to meet his eyes, which were deep green. If my eyes were stated to be emerald, his were malachite—darker and gorgeous. I looked away quickly, before I drooled on the spot and embarrassed myself further. "Bye." I muttered.

His eyes never shifted from mine; I could still feel him staring. "Bye." He replied, unmoving. He didn't depart as I expected him to; instead, he stayed put, as if he was waiting for something. Well, if he was waiting for me to invite him in, he was in for a disappointment. I whirled and crossed our yard without bothering to follow the pebbled trail (thank goodness my parents weren't at home. Otherwise, I'd be in big trouble for stepping on the lawn). By the time I got to the door, Gaara was still in place, watching me. I turned to him and waved; after he waved back, I slipped inside the house.

Quickly, I kicked off my shoes, took off my jacket, dropped my bag, and ran towards the window adjacent to the door. Looking out, Gaara was already walking away.

At that moment, it occurred to me what Gaara had been doing earlier on. Initially, I thought he simply chose to stand and stare like a creep; when, actually, he had been waiting. Waiting for _me _to enter the house, and hadn't left until he was sure I had gotten in safely.

In some way it reminded me vaguely of how a typical protective boyfriend would act when walking home his girlfriend.

Unconsciously, I gave out a dreamy sigh.

* * *

I went to the kitchen to grab a can of soda, got up the stairs, entered my room, dropped my bag on a nearby counter, and sat down before the computer on my desk—all of which I'd done with a dazed mind and a heart that still fluttered unreasonably. My odd actions –or reactions—stopped altogether in the precise moment I signed on. Almost immediately, a message popped to my screen, and, reading it, I'd forgotten all about the certain red-head and the somewhat-positive effects he'd given off. My full attention focused on the singular message flashing unread on my screen.

**Rogue: Are you mad at me? I never meant to scare you or anything. I was just warning you.**

**lilpinkchiq: no need for warnings. It was supposed to be hypothetical**

**Rogue: Just stop with all this hypothetical shit, okay? Because it isn't hypothetical. It happened. I know it did.**

**lilpinkchiq: believe what you want**

**Rogue: I will, because I see proof right now. You talk about it –the fight, in your blogs. Not specifically, but you drop in hints enough for me tell that it really happened.**

**lilpinkchiq: …first you knew my last name, which I didn't tell you, now you know about my blogs? How the heck did you find out about all this?**

**Rogue: a little Google never hurts.**

**lilpinkchiq: what the hell are you **_**doing?**_

**Rogue: Research. Your Friendster and Multiply came up on the search engine, too**

I was by far freaked out, though at the moment, there was nothing I could do except gawk vulnerably at the computer screen.

How could I have been so stupid, adjusting the privacy settings so low on my web-accounts—regardless of all my friends' warnings? A complete stranger had just been _researching _on me, as though I was more of an interesting subject than an actual human being.

**lilpinkchiq: stop this.**

**Rogue: stop what?**

**lilpinkchiq: whatever you're doing. It's far from cute or sweet. It's scaring me.**

**Rogue: I only wanted to know you more about you**

**lilpinkchiq: you could've just asked! I gave you my name, didn't I?**

**Rogue: yes and that was your first mistake. Don't be mad. I just like to know who I'm talking to.**

**lilpinkchiq: yeah, well, I do too. Tell me about yourself. It's only fair.**

**Rogue: I'm sorry. I can't.**

**lilpinkchiq: why not? Tell me your name. You know mine and yet I don't even know you.**

**Rogue: sorry. Can't.**

_**Rogue has logged off.**_

Fine, I thought, if he wanted to snoop around, secretly gathering information, then two can play the game. As soon as the idea popped into my head, I seized the black mouse beside the computer and quickly followed through with the thought. I scanned through my contacts until I found the rogue's username; I right-clicked it and viewed his profile.

Almost instantly, a new window popped up, along with an image of an exclamation mark inside a red triangle. _Profile Viewing Disabled._

Well, that's just _great,_ I thought sarcastically. Wait—he said he'd been on Friendster, as well as Multiply. Both sites had installed applications that enabled users to track whoever had been on your page. Quickly, I went to my viewing history on Multiply, scanning it for anyone foreign that might've viewed my page for the past week, until finally an icon titled _Rogue _caught my eye. I clicked it.

_**(!)**__ User 'Rogue' does not exist._

I frowned and navigated to Friendster to find out if anyone unfamiliar viewed my profile there. The rogue was the first one in the list—being the user who was recently on my profile—just a day ago. The account was active when I clicked it, but it might was well have been _in_active. The profile was completely blank and perhaps the only detail available was the basics: Name—_Rogue_, gender—_male_… useless information that I already knew. His location, age, school, affiliations, interests…all were left unfilled.

I remembered his e-mail address and tried Googling that, since he hadn't given me his name. _anonS24 -at- kss. edu. com. _Anon S., was _that_ his name? Anon? What kind of name was _that? _Nonetheless I looked it up, but the search results were none but random, useless sites that had nothing to do with the Rogue. I tried a couple more times, using his screen name as keywords, but nothing of use surfaced. His messenger contact card was blank as well, and his e-mail profiles were either empty or inactive.

It was as if this he didn't even exist.

* * *

I was in for a surprising discovery the next day.

"That guy's staring at you." Ino pointed out, slightly nodding her head over my shoulder towards the gravel fields. My initial guess had been Gaara, watching me _again_, until Ino added, "_Very_ cute. What's up with the hair, though? It looks like a porcupine."

Instantly, I turned towards the direction she'd been pointing at.

He wasn't dead, he hadn't been wiped off the surface of the earth, and he hadn't been abducted… because he was _right there, _more than a dozen yards away, staring at me with an ever familiar examining gaze. And before I knew it, I was sucked in a déjà-vu that had me wandering back nearly five years ago.

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

"Chick alert. Your rival's here," Suigetsu announced publicly.

But he didn't need the notification. He'd seen her the moment she walked out of the building. He watched her until her eyes were caught in his, finally noticing he was there. Although by Sasuke's serious frown it seemed that he was concentrated on the rosette-haired girl, his mind was actually elsewhere.

Her pastel green orbs triggered the re-emergence of nearly five-year-old memories; a déjà-vu that he was sure, judging by the distant look in her eyes, she was similarly experiencing at that moment.

* * *

_Memo: Sirens are going off in my head. I'm losing inspiration for this story. Ugh. I've had this idea for years now. My first attempt sucked ass. My second attempt, after 11 chaps, was deleted after a freaking virus. I lost hope, stopped, and then re-wrote the whole thing again. I had to change the plot a little bit since I'd forgotten all my previous ideas. So this is my 3rd try, and I'm itching to get it over with._

_No worries though. I'm not stopping. That whole paragraph was just... an urge to complain. x)_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**  
__Keelah_


	10. The Armistice

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_Coward. No wonder your brother left you."_

_After a short pause, the older boy added, whispering in Sasuke's ear._

"_No wonder everyone left you."_

* * *

_**Chapter NINE  
**__**The Armistice**_

By the end of elementary, I was enrolled in this private middle-school conservatory that was located within the core of downtown Konoha, in the first three floors of a high-tower financial building. Because my family and I had just recently moved in, the place was new to us, and my parents have been initially uncomfortable with the idea of sending their eleven-year-old preteen daughter to study in the midst of the hectic, on-the-go city life with speeding cars and a high-crime-rate. But it was about the only decent choice of school that they had, and after a jumble of entry exams and interviews, I was accepted in.

It was a nerd school; everyone was a neat-freak, excessively polite, and whoever got remotely close to anything below an A was considered stupid. But the school apparatus was high-classed, there were tons of field trips, classrooms were large and the student population wasn't overflowing, therefore most of us considered ourselves higher than the mainstream schools- specifically the Elementary-slash-Junior-high school that was a few blocks away.

On occasional times, our school and that mainstream school down the road mixed together in either tournament games or major events. No one liked it. We considered ourselves superior to the opposing school, while they considered themselves more experienced, worldlier, because they studied in a normal public school. I thought they were only dissing themselves. But it was in one of those occasions that I first heard of Uchiha Sasuke from the public-school kids. In the beginning, I heard the basics. Tall, dark and handsome. The legend. Mysterious. Quiet. Coolest boy in school. A genius. But after a few months, it turned onto gossip. Parents- dead. Family- dead. Brother gone missing. Left alone. Stupid mistakes. Petty theft. Caught cheating exams. Fights. Detention. A screw-up.

I had wondered at that time whether the rumours were true, despite that I had never actually seen this Sasuke in person; I hadn't even known for sure whether he really existed. It wasn't long though, until proof appeared before my eyes.

It was a blazing weekday afternoon, and I was one of the last students to leave because I had extra curriculums after school. The streets were near deserted, with all the students gone home and all the workers in their jobs already. I strolled lightly down the sidewalk, headed home, until—

"Why you all alone, Uchiha?" a taunting voice spoke, coming from just around the corner I was closely approaching. "Everyone _abandoned_ you or somethin'?"

There was a moment of silence, until the same voice spoke again, "Damn straight, right? You're left all alone. No more mommy and daddy." Nothing. "Well? Say something, emo boy." Nothing. "Man, you're even a bigger asshole than before. Is that characteristic in the family blood or something? Cause I heard your brother was a real-"

"Don't you dare talk about my brother." A new foreign voice said monotonously, yet threateningly. When I reached the corner where the street had swerved sharply to the right, I peered around slowly and quietly. In less than a hundred feet away, three boys stood unmoving on the path ahead; the two bigger, older boys were positioned on either side of the shorter, self-secluded one- whose back was the only part I could see from where I stood.

"Oh, that subject's still pretty taboo, huh? Why the hell deny it, though. Everyone knows the guy's a murderer."

"Shut up, Abumi."

"Good riddance." Abumi continued, "The guy was an ass. It runs in the family. Maybe that's why they're all dead. Maybe everyone really hated your stupid clan."

"Shut up!"

"Your brother probably knew the cops were clueing in. Now he's gone. What kind of loser runs away like that?"

"Shut up! He isn't a loser! And he'll come back!"

The taller boy, who was called Abumi, perhaps fourteen years of age, scuffed. "For you? I bet he won't."

"Shut up! Just shut up!" the younger boy yelled; clearly, he was struggling to keep his cool.

"You're such a baby."

Finally, he lost his temper. He ran towards the Abumi dude and threw himself at him, who was much taller and looked more skilled than he was. Quickly, the other boy- Abumi's friend, I supposed- who wore a strange fur jacket and a mummy-like mask despite the heat of the afternoon, grabbed hold of him, and using his arms hooked and restrained the young boy's shoulders from behind. He struggled futilely.

Abumi was back up instantly and began punching the younger boy in the stomach, and hard. He didn't stand a chance. It was two against one. I contemplated whether or not to help, but decided that there was nothing I could do anyway. I watched helplessly as Abumi landed endless blows on the boy's torso.

"You're a weakling." He sneered at the young boy's face, laughing bitterly. "Who'd want to look after a weakling? You're freaking _pathetic!_" then, in a lower voice that I barely caught, he whispered, "This is what your so-called legendary brother has been teaching you? How to be a loser?"

The next had happened too fast. The boy broke free of the wrapped-like-a-mummy dude's grasp and landed a hard hit on his face that sent him to the ground. His amount of strength surprised me. The boy then grabbed a hold of Abumi's fist, rotating him and grabbing the other one so that he grasped both arms from behind. Then, without warning, he raised a foot and stepped on his captive's back, stretching his arms back in a painful and unnatural manner. Abumi screamed.

The younger boy smirked, and whispered hatefully, "_Now _who's the weakling?" he stretched the other boy's arms further, pulling at his arms at the same time as stepping on his back. Abumi screamed louder.

My eyes widened, and instinctively, before I had time to think about it, I interfered. "Don't!" I yelled. The action hadn't done much, but managed to have the boy turn to my direction. He looked at me, first with surprised eyes that soon turned perplexed, like he was wondering what I was doing there, and perhaps how long I've been watching. Knowing I had at least some of his attention, I yelled again, "You're hurting him!"

He looked back down at the screaming boy in his grasp, and a look flashed in his eyes- as if it was only then realization of his actions dawned to mind. Promptly, he let go of the older boy, shoving him to the ground in a disgusted manner. Without another word, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

I thought that was the end of it. It wasn't. Abumi- who apparently still hadn't learned his lesson- muttered as he walked past, "_Coward. _No wonder your brother left you." after a short pause, he added, _"No wonder everyone left you."_

In a flash, the younger boy had jumped onto the other lad and both fell down on the ground. "You bastard!" the younger one exploded. Grabbing the other boy's head, he slammed it onto the sidewalk, repeatedly. Abumi, who was previously struggling, stopped moving altogether, and everything about him suddenly became very still. Perhaps the only thing moving was the crimson liquid that seeped out from underneath his head, smearing all over the pavement.

I didn't gasp. I didn't huff. In fact, I couldn't breathe at all. "What did you do?" I said quietly, but he had heard it. He looked up, remembering that I was still there. With shaking knees, I turned and ran away.

I had run back to school for help. Panting, I burst into the staff lounge- a place where students were forbidden- and screamed of what happened. It took two teachers to finally calm me down. It wasn't long before they called nine-one-one.

I remained in the staff lounge for a few moments to settle down my nerves. When I came back to the place of incident, an ambulance had just pulled away, wailing loudly as it sped down the road. A police car flashed its red and blue lights not far away, and two cops were present. One was talking to an old woman-apparently a witness- typically dressed with a shirt and a honey-peach robe; while another was directing a handcuffed boy into the vehicle.

Just before he was fully shoved inside the police car, my eyes caught his for an entire second. They were obsidian, completely dark, and specks of blue or purple would sometimes be visible when they sparkled in the sunlight. But despite its awing beauty, no one can miss the evident frustration and regret that tainted them.

The other boy with Abumi- the mummy wrapped one that had been thrown to the ground- suffered a minor concussion that basically knocked him out for the whole time. His name was Dosu something, now currently a senior student- and a bad one- in the Hidden Leaves.

Abumi, on the other hand, had been pretty much doomed to be crippled for the rest of his life. Both arms had been fractured and dislocated, but that was the least of his injuries; he had suffered brain damage due to direct impact on hard cement, part of his skull had cracked, and afterwards suffered some mental and physical disabilities.

The younger kid had been, surprise-surprise, Uchiha Sasuke. I didn't know what happened to him afterwards. Seeing as he was now part of a program meant for kids either expelled from school or charged for violent dispositions, Sasuke's life had obviously only took turns from bad to worse after that incident.

My parents were horrified after they were debriefed. I ended up spending only half a year in the middle school before we moved to what they called a much peaceful environment in the uptown suburbs- which was still our same residence at the moment.

I never saw Sasuke again after that. Until now.

* * *

He was approaching. And fast.

The very first thing I noticed was the somewhat darkened patch around his left eye- which I recognized immediately was the bruise I'd given him a few days ago. Being able to sight it from a pretty far distance, I have to admit my blow on him must've been harder than I realize. A small sense of triumph tingled within me.

"Hey," Sasuke greeted all of a sudden, and I slightly jolted in surprise to find him a mere yard away from me already. Silently, without responding, I stared at him. He scratched the back of his head- it was quite adorable, actually. "I…you... you know, _us_." _Huh?_ "…we should—make up. And—you know—stop screwing each other every single day and—…" he paused, realizing his previous statement. "Wait. Aw, shit, no, I didn't mean it like that, I just—_damnit!_"

I raised an eyebrow. How… amusing. I had to purse my lips to prevent from chuckling.

Sasuke help his hands up in front of me with opened palms, as if a motion to stop me from… I would suppose, walking away. "Just let me try this again. I… I thought maybe we got off on the wrong start… you know, these past couple of days."

"Past couple of days?" I repeated. "We got off on the wrong start four _years _ago, Sasuke."

He twitched. "Yeah? Well, before doesn't count."

"Of course it does!" I argued. "In fact, that's the one that counts the most! It was like the… initiating incident of… _everything_! It _does _count!"

"Ok, fine," He renounced, obviously annoyed, "it counts. Whatever."

"So you're apologizing for that too?"

"No." he snapped, "This has nothing to do with that. That's history. And I never ever did anything to you anyway!"

"You had me traumatized!"

"At the sight of a little blood?"

"It was not _little. _There was a whole lake of it. I had nightmares for months! My parents even got me a shrink!"

"And it's my fault you're such a naïve little girl who's never had a paper-cut?"

"No, but it's your fault you're such a screw-up."

He narrowed his eyes at me, "You're impossible. Truly. I'm trying here, okay? But you turn down every single chance of us having an actual decent conversation."

"We've had decent conversations before." I told him.

"I didn't know who you were, yet. That's different."

"I'm sure." I stated in a deadpan manner. Briskly, I walked away; wishing in my mind that Ino hadn't left me all alone with the Uchiha.

Just as I reached the entrance doors of the Fine Arts building, I heard a call, "Hey." Turning, I saw Sasuke only a foot or less away from me and closing in; and surprised by the sudden proximity, I backed away. He continued moving in until I hit the corner beside the doors, and then placed one hand on the wall beside my head, while another near my waist.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.

"Listen, this is really getting stupid, okay?" he said. He sounded fed up.

"Tell me about it. I've been pinned thrice in a single week." I replied nonchalantly.

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what _are _you talking about?

"A truce. Between us. I'd like one." It didn't seem like it. He was glaring his eyes out.

"Are you apologizing?" I asked, astonished.

He scuffed. "Are you stupid or what?" translation: yes.

Blushing, I barked, "Stop calling me stupid! I'm way smarter that you."

"Academically, yeah. But there's a difference between school smart and world-reality-general-life smart. You're not gonna last five minutes in the streets, trust me."

"You're not very convincing for someone supposedly asking for a truce."

"You have a lot of guts for someone who clearly has the disadvantage."

"Just 'cause I'm shorter, smaller, most likely weaker, and a _girl_, does not mean I'm at the disadvantage. Ever heard of the term 'inner strength'?"

"No. But I've heard of 'small and terrible'."

I glared. "In case you're forgetting, this is the girl that kicked your ass the other day." He twitched, and knowing a hit a nerve of his ego, I smirked. "Now, can you let me go?"

"Depends. We're okay?"

"If it means you'd get off me."

"We won't fight anymore?"

"Fine."

"You won't annoy the hell out of me?"

"I don't think that's within my control." I smiled sarcastically. He smirked.

"Didn't think so, either. So we're okay, right?"

"Sure." I replied, looking away. I was hesitant as to how long I could keep up our ceasefire. Disliking Sasuke seemed to be based more on impulse than choice.

* * *

**Rogue: hey**

**Rogue: you tried researching. didn't turn out so well huh?**

**Rogue: you cant find me. unlike you, I'm not stupid enough to give everyone access to my profiles.**

I grimaced. I didn't want to talk to this stranger- or Rogue, or Anon, or whoever he was- right now. He'd been acting awfully devious, lately; and that scared me.

**Rogue: Sakura…**

_**lilpinkchiq has logged off**_

* * *

I stumbled upon Sasuke again the next afternoon on my spare block, although this time I didn't think it was by chance, nor by obligation. I had a spare block that day, and having all my detention hours paid off, now presently crushed by endless missed assignments, I sat under a tree near the edges of our school's very own, private woodland (given that Konoha's municipality was more or less made up of trees), serenely unaccompanied.

Serenely unaccompanied that is, until Uchiha Sasuke showed up, in a way that almost seemed he _intended _to come here, and as I've said- not by chance, nor by obligation. Alone and enveloped by scattered, unorganized papers- I was organized in most days, today was not part of that extent- I must've looked strange to him.

Approaching, and sweating a great deal for some reason, he said, "What are you doing?"

"Homework packages." I spat the phrase hatefully. "Note that it's plural." He raised an eyebrow- his left, the one shaded by the bruise. I explained, "It's work that I've missed on each of my classes while I spent time in detention, slowly loosing my mind as I stare and stare and stare for the stupid clock to move on already. At about the same time, you were grounded at home, in bed, playing PS3, or Wii or Guitar Hero, or whatever it is guys do when slacking off. Tell me, how fair is that?"

He shrugged and plopped down beside me- which was surprising. "Just so you know," he said, "I didn't just stay home and slack off."

"You disappeared. You're never in the school. I never saw you around anymore."

This time, both eyebrows rose as he looked at me. "You noticed?" I blushed immediately; and immediately as well, he saw it. Smirking, he changed the subject, "I wasn't allowed out except for school and work. When the guys go to the Academy, it's mostly for play. Can't do that. I had to listen to Kakashi rattle on about self-control."

"You have a job?" I asked, unable to conceal the surprise in the voice.

He replied proudly. "I help out Kakashi sometimes, at the station. Sometimes I clean, sometimes I do the boring paperwork no one wants to do. It's not much, but it's a start. I'm saving up."

"Oh." We fell into silence for a minute. Then, just to fill in the stillness, I asked, "So what are you doing out here? Where's the rest of your posse?"

He nodded into the deep green of trees, "In the woods. We're playing Capture-the-flag."

"Oh." I said again. "What are _you_ doing _here_?"

He shrugged. "I needed a rest." I stared at him. "And I saw you. I thought maybe… I don't know."

I didn't know what else there was to say. We were silent once again, and every second that passed made it more and more awkward; to me, at least. Sasuke, on the other hand, seemed more at ease that I was. He stared distantly at the ground before him, seemingly very interested at each blade of grass.

My eyes were soon drawn to his left eye, or rather, the area around it. A nasty bruise flaunted itself noticeably against Sasuke's more or less (with more being the most likely) good-looking features. The contusion's shade was a mixture of purple and blue, as well as a number of black specks unevenly scattered on it. It was disgusting, in a way; but upon Sasuke's face… it didn't look as bad. But it sure as heck looked painful. The fact that I'd been the one who'd done that damage had yet to sink in.

Suddenly, I realized I'd been staring in the most obvious manner (and I could only hoped I wasn't gaping) in what seemed to be for the longest time. But before I could draw my gaze away, Sasuke turned to look at me.

"What?"

"Does it hurt?" I asked bluntly. He didn't need further explanation. But the way I stared so intently at his black eye, it was pretty obvious what I was referring to.

He shrugged. "It doesn't anymore, not really. It hurt over the weekend, though. It hurt like hell."

"Oh." What's wrong with me? Did I not know any other reply except "oh"? On the other hand, what was I supposed to say if a boy- known for his rough-and-tough reputation- had just admitted that I- short and weak- was physically able to hurt him?

"…I mean, that was some hit." He muttered. I smirked, unable to resist as he was basically admitting that I had I won and he lost. "You've got one hell of a temper, you know?"

"Yeah," I grinned, "I know."

* * *

_Name: Sasuke Uchiha  
Networks: Konoha Secondary School_

_Konoha, JP_

_Matches: __Name_

When I arrived at the Graphic Comms classroom, it was almost on impulse that I'd gone on Facebook (despite any activity non-associated with school work was inadmissible) as the very first thing I did once the computer had finished loading. Without much thought, I went on Profile Search and had typed in: _Uchiha Sasuke._

The results had come up promptly and by the next second, my eyes were glued without a known cause upon the window screen that intrepidly exhibited Sasuke's profile picture. It was a vertically rectangular picture, slightly blurred, like a meager image taken by a webcam. Sasuke, at the main focus, sat on the ground with his elbows resting upon his bent knees, hands clasped together composedly. Although his head was bowed in a slight angle, concealing some parts of his face, his eyes- as dark as obsidian, specked with blue and purple- looked up and was staring straight at the camera; his gaze direct and intense.

Wow. For someone so reserved and half-the-time unfeeling, I never knew Sasuke was such a _poser_. Or maybe he wasn't, I thought over. Maybe he was just a naturally photogenic, and with his alluring appearance, possessed some kind of secret innate ability in being picturesque.

But, either way, it was still a shock to find _the _Uchiha Sasuke taking _self_-pictures, him of all people. It was such a shock that the news was almost laughable. And it was. In the midst of awe and the process of drooling, I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Sasuke posing for the camera. Or he probably didn't need to pose. He probably only had to look at the lenses and, by some inborn miracle, actually look good without any effort.

Finally, I tore my eyes away from the immobile picture of Sasuke- of which I'd been staring at for the longest minutes- and pointed my mouse over the text on the right hand side of the box. _Add to Friends_

I thought about it for a moment, and then quickly moved away the pointer. What am I thinking? We weren't even friends. We barely ever talked. Adding Sasuke would make me look like some stalker- as if surfing up his profile and staring at his picture wasn't already stalker-like enough- and it would seem to desperate.

Absentmindedly, I clicked on Home, more for a distraction before I had second thoughts about not adding the certain someone. I got my distraction alright. At the very first of the news feed was a notification of a new post on my wall sent earlier this morning

**Rogue wrote on your wall. 9:33am  
**"Hey. It's me."

Another was more recent, about half an hour ago, just before I'd gone on the computer.

**Rogue wrote on your wall. 1:04pm  
**"Msg me when you go on. I want to talk to you."

**Rogue wrote on your wall. 1:10pm  
**"Sakura. Go online. Where _are _you?"

**Rogue: finally. I thought you were never logging on.**

I jumped, startled by both the sudden chime from the computer speakers, and the window conversation that had popped without warning on my screen. It was _him; _and with that clear in my mind I made of effort to reply and apprehensively read the successive texts.

**Rogue: you haven't been answering my msgs**

**Rogue: Sakura.**

**Rogue: you there?**

**Rogue: where the hell are you?**

**Rogue: Sakura**

Finding this inane and time-wasting, I logged out.

* * *

When I got home that afternoon, Naruto had a little surprise for me- a _little, _and to be honest, a rather casual surprise that, despite its simplicity, almost managed to give me a heart attack because of its _paradoxicalness- _which, to put it simply, means irony.

**naruto-uzmki: Sasuke's asking for your email.**

If I'd been drinking at that moment, I would've most likely chocked on water and died of shock.

**naruto-uzmki: remember Sasuke? i told you about him. don't know if you guys have met though. I don't even know how he knows you. should I give it?**

**lilpinkchiq: yes**

**naruto-uzmki: …?**

**lilpinkchiq: I mean like, whatever. I don't really care.**

**naruto-uzmki: okay…**

Soon after that, a new window had turn up.

**theuchihasasuke (View Profile) has added you to his/her buddy list  
****[] Add to my list  
****[] Block this person**

Hesitantly, yet excitedly, I clicked the former.

**theuchihasasuke: Sakura?**

**lilpinkchiq: hey**

**theuchihasasuke: hey. **

Insert awkward silence here.

**lilpinkchiq: sooooooooooooooo…wasssuuuppp?**

God, that was lame.

**theuchihasasuke: That was pathetic.**

I rolled my eyes. So much for a truce.

**lilpinkchiq: what are you doing?**

What was wrong with me?

**theuchihasasuke: What do you **_**think**_** I'm doing? I'm on the computer.**

**lilpinkchiq: right. me too!**

**theuchihasasuke: Genius.**

**lilpinkchiq: shut up**

**theuchihasasuke: I'm not even talking. Laughing at your stupidity, yeah. **

**lilpinkchiq: Uchiha Sasuke laughing? Crap. Run. Pigs are flying. Hell's breaking loose. The world's at its end.**

**theuchihasasuke: hilarious**

**lilpinkchiq: I wasn't kidding**

**theuchihasasuke: I was being sarcastic, stupid. **

**lilpinkchiq: you are such a j**

—

**Rogue: you've been avoiding me**

My fingers halted instantly at typing, and instead stared at the blinking window that held a new message. The Rogue went on without waiting for a reply, as if he knew I wasn't going to send one. Suddenly, a continual chain of bells of sent messages filled the air.

**theuchihasasuke: I'm such a what?**

—

**Rogue: I know you're there, pinky.**

—

**theuchihasasuke: pinky, you still there?**

—

**Rogue: I know you are.**

—

**theuchihasasuke: or have you gone and ditched me?**

—

**Rogue: say something.**

—

**naruto-uzmki: hey Sak, you still on? Sasuke said you're not replying. I think he feels dumped.**

—

**Rogue: Sakura!**

—

**theuchihasasuke: Sakura? Answer me**

—

**Rogue: DAMNIT Sakura, **_**answer**_** me!**

I felt the sudden urge to leave. Not just because my mind was beginning to turn into jelly from reading several messages from three different senders in a continual manner, but also because the Rogue seemed to be loosing his temper- and I didn't want to deal with any more of him.

I clicked Sasuke's window.

**lilpinkchiq: I need to go.**

**theuchihasasuke: You **_**need **_**to? What's wrong?**

**lilpinkchiq: nothing. Everything's perfect. Going now. Bye.**

_**lilpinkchiq has logged off**_

* * *

_**Sabaku no Gaara**_

"Who was that?"

Immediately, the Uchiha fumbled for the mouse and minimized the opened Messenger window. But he was a second too late. Gaara had already seen the display icon on the top right hand corner of the window. It was a picture of Sakura, her light hair messily-styled, grinning stupidly yet sweetly at the camera.

"You've been chatting with Sakura? The chick with the pink hair?"

"Yeah," Uchiha said abruptly, "So?"

"Nothing." Gaara replied nonchalantly, and pretended not to notice the Uchiha's penetrating gaze that was focused on him. "You know her E-mail?" Uchiha's eyes narrowed slightly. "What is it?"

"Why do you wanna know? You don't even know Sakura."

"Yes I do. I walked her home yesterday." The statement seemed to have an effect on the Uchiha. He twitched. Gaara held a small smirk, which he knew bothered the so-called prodigy for some strange reason. "You got a problem with that?"

Grudgingly, the Uchiha stood up and marched away from the only computer in the house. "No."

"So you don't mind if I note down her E-mail?"

The Uchiha walked passed him, and their shoulders brushed harshly. "I don't care."

Once the Uchiha was out of audible range, Gaara muttered, "Yeah, right."

* * *

_Memo: So, the coolest thing. I was reading over a class list for this kind-of-not-really part time job of mine, and this one dude, his last name was __**Cullen**__. Not kidding. That is awesome, ahahaha. My first reaction? "Edward's relative!" lol_

_(Speaking of, did you know the Twilight saga is filmed where I live? Hm! Lol And so was X-men 3, Invisible and Final Destination 3. I've seen all 3 movie sets, or a glimpse of them anyway. It's pretty cool.)_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Happy Hearts Day, everyone! =)  
__Keelah_


	11. Unremitting Messages

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_You see, light thinks it's faster than darkness, but it actually isn't;_

_Because however fast light travels towards its destination, it finds darkness already there…_

_Waiting._

* * *

_**Chapter TEN  
**__**Unremitting Messages**_

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 8:30am**

_**Hey msg me when you get this.**_

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 9:05am**

_**Go online, Sakura. I need to talk to you.**_

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 9:32am**

_**Are you still not talking to me? Stop being so foolish. Go online.**_

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 10:44am**

_**What the hell's taking so long? It shouldn't take you this long to get a fucking computer and log on.**_

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 11:00am**

_**I'm gonna find you pinky**_

I frowned, downright disturbed. I've only been off the computer for an estimated thirteen hours; yet in spite of that, my inbox was overflowing by the next morning, with notifications of new posts and comments and graffiti's all coming from a similar sender. The ones I'd been reading right now were the most recent, though it was part of a bigger bunch that I really did not fancy reading one by one.

The thought of Rogue was beginning to agitate me deeply, rather than give me fluttering butterflies in the stomach like before. What was with this guy? Suddenly, the person I'd been talking to for the past week, the person I'd actually been liking so much, had disappeared within a short span of twenty-four hours.

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 11:10am**

_**I'll find out where you live…where you go to school… your address…**_

Before I had the chance to even gasp, I became aware of the presence that was closing in behind me. Spotting a dark shadow in the corner of my eye, I shuffled for the mouse and diverted the webpage to Home. Next to me, Sasuke held a quizzical, yet amused look on his face as he stared with one raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing." He said abruptly, his eyes studying me as though I was an odd-looking creature from another planet. Slowly, he sat down beside me. "I'm just… using the computer right here."

I stared back at him, skeptical. "There are a hundred other unoccupied computers around."

"I'm not allowed to sit beside you?" he asked pointedly, waiting for an answer. When I didn't give him one, he said, "Okay…whatever. I won't bother you. You can uh…" his eyes flicked to the computer on my desk, "continue on whatever you were doing earlier."

"Fine. I will." I faced front towards the computer.

After a while, Sasuke said, "So you were… staring at the Yahoo homepage before I arrived?"

"I'm…reading." I reasoned pathetically.

"Of course." He said with a tone that evidently stated I was crazy. I tried to ignore him as a voice spoke suddenly from the computer speakers.

_You have 1 new mail. _Resting on my inbox was an unread notice. Warily, I clicked it open, though I had a pretty good, solid idea what it was. A comment from the Rogue. What else, and who else?

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 11:20am**

_**Let me guess where you are right now. In school. Its lunch time.**_

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 11:21am**

_**And you're in the library, am I right? **_

**Rogue (no network) wrote on your wall. 11:22am**

_**Of course I am. **_

Immediately, I threw my head around, scanning at every person within the room that may somehow look suspicious; there was no one—or it seemed so. There were only a few students nerdy enough to spend their lunchtime in the library. Half of them huddled in tables doing schoolwork, the rest hunched up in a corner reading. None of them looked insane enough to be a stalker.

I tried convincing myself, _this is stupid_. It was obviously a joke. It could even be someone I knew in real-life, playing a prank on me and whatnot. My anxiety, which was bit by bit increasing, was unnecessary.

However I could not shake off the gut-feeling that a pair of eyes was watching me that very moment. I ran out of the Library.

* * *

**theuchihasasuke: you didn't look all that okay to me at lunch.**

Sasuke had messaged me two seconds after I had just logged in. It _had _to be world record, especially considering this was _Sasuke_, the person who I thought would not converse with me intentionally if I was the last living being on earth, and even then there was a very large chance that he might still choose a rock over me. Needless to say, I was rather surprised.

**lilpinkchiq: I'm fine. I just had to go**

**theuchihasasuke: I called after you, but you were kind of in a daze. I don't think you heard me at all. You sure you're fine?**

**lilpinkchiq: yes, very. why does it even matter to you?**

**theuchihasasuke: that was actually a question out of courtesy. I actually don't really care.**

**lilpinkchiq: so much for courtesy**

**theuchihasasuke: so who's Rogue?**

His question caught me off-guard.

**lilpinkchiq: who?**

**theuchihasasuke: Rogue.**

I decided to play dumb.

**lilpinkchiq: I don't know. Who's that?**

**theuchihasasuke: you tell me. it was **_**his **_**email that had you running away**

**lilpinkchiq: **_**what? **_**what are you talking about?**

**theuchihasasuke: you left your computer open earlier**

**lilpinkchiq: and?**

**theuchihasasuke: I read it. **

**lilpinkchiq: how sensitive**

**theuchihasasuke: stop distracting me. It's not working. Who's rogue? I doubt he's a secret admirer. Cuz, you know, who'd want to admire you?**

**. . .**

**lilpinkchiq: I hate you**

**theuchihasasuke: I was kidding. Jeez. now who the hell's this Rogue?**

**lilpinkchiq: no one. Just**

**theuchihasasuke: just…?**

I hesitated for a moment. I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell him _half _the truth.

**lilpinkchiq: A random guy who's been sending me messages. He's wouldn't leave me alone. No big**

**theuchihasasuke: block him**

**lilpinkchiq: cant really. He's everywhere. **

**theuchihasasuke: might just be one of your friends.**

**theuchihasasuke: don't worry about it**

**lilpinkchiq: … I can't believe you just said.**

**theuchihasasuke: what?**

**lilpinkchiq: that was…nice, **_**comforting. **_**What are you smoking?**

**theuchihasasuke: …you just love ruining every single chance of us having a normal conversation without dissing each other, don't you?**

**lilpinkchiq****: habit. ****Sorry**

**theuchihasasuke: whatever.**

_**theuchihasasuke has logged off.**_

Sasuke was right. I hadn't the need to be troubled by this. I began repeating to myself what he had said: _Don't worry about it. A_nd tried to encourage myself in doing just that. There was logic in his words. After a moment, my pulse began to slow down.

The assurance I began to feel did not even last a minute. Almost immediately, a buzz broke through my meditation. Speaking of the devil…

**Rogue: running away again? Just like you did in the library?**

**lilpinkchiq: that was a coincidence. You cant see me.**

**Rogue: it won't be long until I do though **

**lilpinkchiq: what's that mean?**

**Rogue: …you know what the great thing is? **_**I live in Konoha too.**_** isn't that lovely? It wouldn't be that hard to look for your residence, now**

I felt a little tingle go up my spine and realized it was fear.

**lilpinkchiq: you freak. Just stop this. Whatever happened to those conversations we had before? The nice little sweet ones? Lets just go back to that. Stop being a freak.**

**Rogue: you shouldn't have told anyone about the fight, then.**

**lilpinkchiq: what –the one in the alley? I didn't tell a soul!**

**Rogue: you will. You're thinking about it.**

**lilpinkchiq: I won't tell anyone.**

**Rogue: yes, you would. You told me, didn't you? Its only a matter of time until you tell someone else. I'm only giving you a warning to make sure some things are kept low**

**lilpinkchiq: what does this even have anything to do with you?**

**Rogue: you're smart. Figure it out.**

_**Rogue has logged off.**_

What's he saying? Gosh, it's not like he's a part of –wait. _Is _he?

Things began to make more sense, even if that sense terrified me that I'd rather not understand it. But I did.

_Gangs like these don't just leave you be, you know. They'll come back._

* * *

"Hey, ugly!"

I turned languidly towards the voice that belonged to Sai—knowing instantly it was him from the nickname—and saw him squeezing through the crowd of people that crammed the hallway. When he was within a metre's distance, he grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me aside, leading me down through a less-filled, minor hall.

"Where are we going?" I asked halfheartedly, too deep in thought to even bother at the moment.

"Hold on, I wanna show you something." He spoke in his usual monotonic way, but one could not miss the traces of gusto in his voice.

We stopped in front of a locker. Sai, finally releasing my arm, entered the combination and unlocked it. He took out a transparent paper-encasement, and from that, an A1 sized paper covered with sketched-pencil marks all over the page.

Sai waved it proudly in front of my face, and a barely noticeable curve at the end of his lips—the closest to a grin Sai would get. I knew what he was grinning about. His drawing was spectacular. The portrait was simple: a panorama of a bare room with opened windows that let in the moonlight; on the opposite side of the room was a dim corridor with indefinite, murky shadows and corners that the light rays were nearly reaching—or otherwise unable to.

The only thing that broke the scene was the big, fat "A+" marked in red print on the right hand corner of the paper. We were currently working on the aspect of shadowing in Arts, a subject which Sai seemed to master perfectly. On the other hand, he can perfect just about everything that has anything to do with visual arts.

"It's great." I remarked, though it lacked enthusiasm. Sai stared, analyzing me.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just…tried." Try exhausted. Last night, after the chat with the Rogue, his grim indications of being part of that gang (of course, he could just be saying that to scare me, though I doubt it) had me up until early four in the morning, turning and shifting uncomfortably. Since then, I've been in faraway land, lost in the zone, half-asleep—whatever, you name it.

I tried at least to be avid for Sai. "Forget about me. Really, Sai, this is amazing! It looks real. Like, the lighting effects…and the shading and stuff. You should label it."

"Ugly, you know I don't title my works. _Can't_ title them."

"I'll do it for you then." I paused to stare at the drawing and said the first thing that popped in my mind. "Call it 'Light Devours Darkness'. Or 'Speed of Light' or… 'Light Outruns Darkness'."

"That's actually a common misconception." Sai stated, "You see, light thinks it's faster than darkness, but it actually isn't. Because however fast light travels towards its destination, it finds darkness already there… waiting."

I stared at him incredulously, and it took a little while to let his _pessimistic, _though logical words sink in. "…geez."

"Yeah." He chuckled. I flinched at the sound; it had seemed so hollow. He paused, before adding, "…it's true, though."

I gave him an odd look, and was about to say something like "cheer up" (quite hypocritical in my case, I know) when a voice interjected, along with a rough clutch—rough, considering I was subliminal at the moment—just above my elbow.

"Sakura." Uchiha Sasuke muttered in my ear, half turned away from Sai who he had wholly and deliberately disregarded. Until Sai cleared his throat. Sasuke looked up, as if noticing him for the first time. "Sai."

"Uchiha."

Some greeting. I bet it would be one hell-like silence if these two were put in a room together.

"Let's go." Sasuke yanked my arm.

Short in temper, I yanked it back. Why the heck do people keep tugging my arm this morning? "Go where?"

"I need you to come with me." He pulled on my arm again.

I gave Sai an apologetic glance. "Bye." I didn't think he noticed. His eyes were fixed stably upon the Uchiha.

Giving in, I let Sasuke haul me away; but his glare towards Sai did not go unnoticed under my half-asleep gaze, especially when Sai had called out "See you around."

As soon as we were around the corner, I seized my arm away from the Uchiha's hold. Unbothered, he tucked his hands back indifferently in his sweatshirt's pockets.

"Well?" I asked impatiently, "What is it?"

"Hurry up." Sasuke grabbed my shoulder and began pushing me forward. "You're going to be late for your next class."

"You pulled me aside for nothing?"

"Basically." He shoved me lightly, "Get moving."

Stubbornly, I stood rooted to the ground, crossing my arms to complete the little scene. I demanded, "What's wrong with you and Sai?"

He lifted one eyebrow, although the rest of his face remained inexpressive. "What do you mean?"

"You were glaring at him. What do you have against Sai?"

"Nothing," he said, his tone clearly stating an end to the matter. Well, fine, for now; I'll bug him about it next time.

Without any further conversation, we got to my locker; and Sasuke waited, leaning against the one beside mine as I dug in for my Bio textbook.

"I saw the messages," he blurted suddenly.

My mind was a little slow in process today. "What?"

"Rogue. The messages he's been sending you? I read some of them."

"I know. You already told me. The E-mails."

"I saw more," he shrugged as if it was nothing. "I went on Facebook and read some of your wall."

"Really?" I asked, surprised; flattered, even. Only a day ago, I thought I'd been pathetic for secretly looking up his profile. Turns out it worked vice-versa as well.

"I think the guy's obsessed," he said, avoiding the question, if "really?" was even considered a real question at all. I decided to let it pass, but bearing in mind to pester him about it later.

"You think?" I scoffed.

"Maybe you should report this or something."

"Or something!" I exclaimed. "You're telling no one. Okay? No big deal. It's just some freak. He'll stop soon enough." _I hope, _I added silently.

"Okay…" he said, hesitant, "Fine. It's probably nothing then, anyway."

I tried to dwell on his words, but found it hard to. Sasuke only knew part of it, that I've been receiving messages from an unknown sender who wouldn't leave me alone; he didn't know that that stranger had Googled me like some obsessive maniac who now—if what he claimed was true—knew I lived in Konoha

Would everything still be fine if a complete stranger knew where I lived?

I told myself yes, it wouldn't matter. It wasn't like he would break in my house and murder me in my sleep. That's rather foolish to think of.

In the back of my head though, I knew it wasn't all-that stupid.

Perhaps, it was even the slightest bit possible.

* * *

_**Hyuuga Neji**_

"Dudes, this completely _sucks!_" whined Suigetsu so rowdily that he could be heard from all the way on the other side of the room, which was where Neji was seated. They were all currently gathered—though not intentionally, it just sort of happened—in the big room which no one occupied: a spare room, initially, but now treated as the entertainment room-slash-computer room (since it held the one and only computer about the house) where they would now and then hang out to pass time. All of them, except Sai, who had already locked up himself up in his room, Kankuro, who was perhaps digging through the kitchen in the hunt for food, and Shino, who probably was screwing with some bugs he'd found in the wall or something.

The rest of them passed time wastefully, until the hour hand stroke ten and signalize their bedtime—at least, Neji's group's bedtime.

"We have to be asleep by ten," Suigetsu continued. "Like, how old does he think we are, eight? We're teenagers. We go sleep at like, two in the morning!"

Neji, though he hated to admit it, agreed with the blue-haired boy. Morino had been strict as hell on them ever since the first day, when all the while Kakashi's group got to play around with dogs. They were vicious, monstrous dogs, but it had to be better than push-ups.

But Neji did not see what the boy was whining about, since they all in general had to be in by ten at night, anyway. They all had curfews and bedtimes, just that Kakashi's were not so rigorous. It was strict here in the Woodlands House (named after its location: Woodlands Avenue) the group home in which they resided in by means of uncountable rules and regulations and serious consequences. All communes were the same; it didn't matter much to Neji, now. He got used to the severity somewhere along the seven years he'd spent in similar types of communal dwellings.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Kakashi gave us a ten o'clock curfew too." Kiba piped up as he hung, lying upside down on the old, faded couch that was against the far wall of the room.

"Yeah, curfew. Our's is _bedtime._ You can still hang around the house pass ten, while we have to be locked in our rooms already." Suigetsu complained once again. Seriously, was he ever going to stop? "You're lucky you get to be in Kakashi's team, dude."

"Are you kidding me?" Kiba said, "It's like Sex Ed in seventh grade all over again! And our textbook is that orange porno books he always reads. It's so freakin' awkward."

"Better than boot camp with Morino!" the blue-haired boy retorted. "I'd rather talk sex than count how many push-ups I can do in a minute, you know?" Shikamaru, who thus far had been filling up a crossword puzzle section, rolled up the newspaper and smacked Suigetsu in the back of the head for his perverted mentality.

The boy grumbled, "Bet you the nerd likes it. He probably imagines himself doing the nasty with Gaara's sister, too." He earned another smack from the currently reddening Shikamaru, plus an additional one from Gaara—though his was much harder.

"Don't talk about Temari," the red-head ordered in monotone; and then, to Shikamaru, "And don't go around making out in public. It's disgusting, if you haven't already noticed." And again, Neji agreed silently. He'd seen them playing tonsil hockey just yesterday—and it was quite ghastly to watch, especially considering she was at least his senior by three years.

"Speaking of girls," Kiba piped up, giving a crafty glance towards Gaara. "Heard you walked a certain pink chick home yesterday."

Gaara, sitting back down in his little solitary corner of the room from having to get up and land a hit on Hozuki, rolled his eyes wordlessly.

Receiving no reply, Kiba continued, "Well? Any connection? Was there a spark?"

"I do not kiss and tell," Gaara answered reservedly. The small twitch Sasuke gave all the way on the other side of the room was barely discernible, and no one else had seen it, but it did not go unnoticed under the Hyuuga's sharp eyesight.

"You don't kiss and tell," Kiba said pensively, "But you're not telling us. So that means there _were _sparks! Dude, you guys should definitely hook up. Perfect match. You're like the dark and she's light. You know, you're red and she's pink—which is like, the lighter shade of red? And she's got light green eyes and you've got dark ones?"

"Since when did you start noticing my eyes?" Gaara mocked, though the canine-like boy remained unaffected.

"I'm serious here! I mean, you don't mind, right, Sasuke?"

The Uchiha, settled on the rolling chair before the sole computer in the house, took his eyes of the screen and glanced aside towards Kiba, speaking for the first time in the conversation, "And _why _would I care?"

"You know, 'cause you guys got that history thing going on."

"History thing?" He glared at Shikamaru, who raised both his hands up as if to say _what?_ "You told them?"

"No," Nara said defensively, "Kiba probably overheard–intentionally."

"Not me! It was Hozuki! He's the one telling everyone that you and the pink chick got history."

This time, he glared at Suigetsu, who, in turn, only grinned. "I'm going to murder you someday." Uchiha growled.

"So you don't mind, right?" Kiba asked.

"I couldn't care less."

"You sure? 'Cause I was thinking maybe you have this thing for her…"

"What thing?"

"Maybe…you like her?"

At that very moment, Shino passed by the doorway, and stopped at mid-stride, all ears attentive. "Who likes who?"

"You know, that girl in your Art? Uchiha likes her."

"I do not," Sasuke barked. "Date her. I don't care."

"Give it up, Kiba," Suigetsu called out, "He doesn't like the girl."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"Because his sexual preference is debatable?"

Glaring, Sasuke yelled, "I am seriously gonna murder you!"

Neji Hyuuga—who had remained silent throughout the conversation—watched as Uchiha jumped on and beat up Suigetsu. Wordlessly, he rolled his eyes at the mental stupidity of his housemates.

* * *

_Memo: You know what I hate? Being so close yet so far. For instance, the Olympics. It's held my city, yet I'm not going to get to see it, since tickets are, aside from being waaaay too expensive, sold out. It's such a waste, watching the Olympics on TV when it's only a 10 to 30 minute drive (depending on the sport event) from where I live. Pity._

_Anyway, __**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Sincerely,  
Keelah._


	12. Games of Gore

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Do you want to play a game?_

* * *

_**Chapter ELEVEN  
**__**Games of Gore**_

"Are you even _listening?_"

The day had recently just started, the first bell had rung only a minute ago, and yet in an early Monday morning, a voice was already screeching in my ear. I jumped and, to my right, saw Ino entirely riled up against her locker door with a hand on her hip. I shook my head, hoping that along with it, my over-cautiousness and paranoia that had developed overnight would shake off as well.

I haven't been sleeping well over the last couple of nights; the insomnia had commenced ever since my once-upon-a-time alluring and mysterious chat-buddy had turned into what I believe was called a _stalker._

Initially I thought it was rather impossible for the Rogue to actually "stalk" me, given that the word meant _to harass somebody persistently by constantly following, telephoning, etcetera, steadily and malevolently _(yes, I _did_ look up the dictionary for that one). That was, realistically, impossible to do; he would have to be here, physically, to follow me; and that would be unfeasible for his case, considering I'd met him in the world-wide-web, and the boy could be from anywhere on earth. He did not actually reside in Konoha just as he'd said the last time. Anyone could simply say that and lie…right?

Wrong. Or at least, now I had a very strong feeling that I was wrong. This hunch was only further proved to be correct last night, as I tried to pay no heed to the countless mails that have flooded my inbox, all from a similar sender. I was able to ignore nearly all of it, as it was mostly the same things over and over again:_ "I know you're there", "stop ignoring my messages", "talk to me, Sakura", "Answer me, you bitch" _until one caught my attention: the message at the very end, just when he'd been saying goodbye in the unrequited conversation.

**Rogue: See you soon.**

Before I could stop myself, I replied, against my personal blue law.

**lilpinkchiq: what's that supposed to mean?  
**

**Rogue: we'll meet soon. I know where you live, Sakura.**

**lilpinkchiq: Konoha's a big city**

**Rogue: It wouldn't matter considering I've got your address in my hand right now. **

**Rogue: would you like me to look for you right now? I can. **

I did what my instincts told me to do. In panic, I lied.

**lilpinkchiq: I'm not home.**

**lilpinkchiq: no one's home. I'm over at a friend's house. If you go to my house, you won't find anyone there. **

**Rogue: oh?**

**lilpinkchiq: yeah**

**Rogue: I see.**

_**Rogue has logged off.**_

I blinked. What—? Was that it? His forbidding messages, his eerie speeches, they were over? A small part of me doubted that. For a few moments, I sat inertly before the computer, waiting to see if the Rogue would sign back on.

He didn't. And that, I thought, was the end of it… at least for tonight. And, if I were lucky, forever.

Unfortunately, however, I wasn't that providential.

It was late, past eleven and nearing midnight, and I was lying in bed with droopy eyelids threatening to close on me any second. Just as I was in the brink of dozing off, closely ready to fall in the deep, peaceful state of unconsciousness that lay ahead, loud, ear-piercing chimes rang in the air, jolting me fully awake. The phone was ringing.

Grudgingly, I stood up, a little too fast. Blood drained from my head and I was suddenly lightheaded. Woozy, I fell back to bed. The phone rang again.

I waited until it stopped ringing, or until my parents—both of who, by some miracle, were _actually _home and not out somewhere doing whatever it was they did in their jobs—picked up the phone.

The trills stopped and second later, my mom yelled from the kitchen, "Sakura, honey, it's for you!"

I stood up, unhurriedly this time, and trudged jadedly across my bedroom to grab the phone.

"Hello?" I asked somnolently.

Nothing.

"Hello?"

Only static replied.

I pressed the cordless phone closer against my ear. It was possible that, due to my fatigue, my hearing senses malfunctioned at the moment. "This is Sakura. You asked for me?"

Maybe whoever was on the other line had a low signal. Whoever was on the other line must've been insane as well, to call at this ungodly hour of midnight.

"Anyone there?" When no one answered, I slammed the phone back on its base. But the night wasn't over for me. A few seconds afterwards, another sound broke out, this time coming from my computer. At first it was a knock, denoting the fact that someone had just signed on. Following that, a soft _ding! _erupted from the speakers as a signal for a new message. The signal though, did not prepare me for what was about to come.

**You Little Lair.**

I frowned.

**lilpinkchiq: what?**

**Rogue: you said you weren't home. You lied.**

**lilpinkchiq: I didn't. what makes you think I'm lying?**

…

**Rogue: you answered the phone didn't you?**

I froze, too shocked to reply; too numbed.

…

**Rogue: … exactly.**

* * *

I had closed the window immediately after that, logged out and shut down my computer. I wanted to be disconnected from the internet as fast as possible. Detaching myself from the cyber world, I felt farther from the Rogue, as the internet was our only connection. At first I thought it was our only contact as well; it did not take long though, before he found another way. He found out my home number. How in the world was he able to find out my contact?

I'd been asking myself that ever since the last night, and all throughout this morning. If he'd gone as far as knowing my telephone number, then that meant finding out my address wouldn't be too far off, and it wouldn't be as impossible as I thought and hoped it would. I realized this with dread.

Looking over my shoulder, I scanned the surrounding area—a habit I've acquired over the week, along with constantly checking my cell phone, half expecting a missed call from, who else? The Rogue. There weren't any missed calls, of course. My cell number was unlisted. He'd have no way of finding that out.

"Yeah, Ino," I said, answering her question, though very distantly. "I was listening. Continue." We were lingering beside her locker, and as what was a typical occurrence, I was listening to her endless complains; subject matter: boys (as always).

"Well, I was completely ignored. I guess he was too busy drowning in that slut's saliva, Ino spat.

"You can't have them all, Ino." I told her, "Besides, you'll get over what's-his-name in about a day. Just like you do with all the other boys."

"His name is _Shikamaru_." Ino said with exaggerated highlight. "And he's not like other boys, I swear."

"And what makes this guy different?"

"He rejected me," she answered, ironically proud. "That's what makes him different."

"I can just feel the love…"

"Shut up!"

"What's wrong with _her_?" Chouji asked suddenly, as he walked by us with the typical bag of chips in hand.

"The bad boy she's head over heels for is dating a senior blonde." I stated blandly, causing Ino to flush and scream _shut up! _at me once again. I rolled my eyes, "It's not all-that hopeless, you know."

"Of course it is!" Ino shrieked, "The girl has bigger boobs than I do! She's older. More experienced. And older naturally means hotter. Who'd choose a high school junior for an eighteen-year-old college girl?"

"No one." Chouji blurted, earning a glare from Ino.

"Not helping!"

"Not lying!" he called out, and walked away, his face buried deep within the bag of junk food.

Ino sighed heavily. "He'd never acknowledge my good looks." She said smugly, "He doesn't even know I exist."

"_Sakura!" _I turned and saw Sai waving, approaching towards where we stood. To Ino, with a long-lasting glance, he greeted, "Hey beautiful."

"Well at least someone notices." She muttered, and then to Sai, she smiled, so sweetly it was almost nauseating. _"Hey…"_

Sai grinned, and if he was able to express emotions, I'd say he was flirting back, which he probably was, beneath that stone façade he had on. Then, breaking his gaze on my best friend, he turned to me. I expected him to say something sweet too, or perhaps just smile at me.

Instead, though, he tugged my arm harshly and blurted. "Well, c'mon, you hag. We'll be late for class."

I twitched. Just great. As a lone individual, I could probably pass on as pretty or something, perhaps even attractive in the simplest ways. Put me beside Ino, however, and she's the Swan Princess, while I in turn, magically transform into the Ugly Duckling. Story of my life.

Sai, next to me, suddenly stiffened; the grip he had on my arm tautened, as he gazed straight ahead solidly and loathingly.

"Let's go now, Sakura," He said with an inexpressive tone. I looked up and saw that his gaze led to none other than Uchiha Sasuke—who had just appeared from around the corner and was slowly nearing us. When I didn't respond, Sai did not try to tug my arm again; instead, he hauled me away hurriedly down the hall, without saying goodbye to his so-called beautiful Ino, and only slowed down when we were already in a completely different wing of the school.

"What's up?" I asked once he stopped the fast-walk. Sai, strolling casually towards Art Land (the main Art area of the school, our classroom) as though what happened didn't just happen, shrugged.

"Nothing much. You?"

I growled, ticked-off. "You're hilarious, Sai, really, no. Now what with you and Sasuke? You were glaring at each other."

"I suppose I just hate having to look at him," He replied nonchalantly, and to that I would've fell over comically.

"In case you haven't noticed, you both look the same."

"Yeah, he copies me," he said smugly.

"I don't really care who copied who. What's between you and Sasuke?"

He shrugged. "Mere loathing. Nothing more." He looked uncertain, as though there was more he had to say but was contemplating whether or not he should; I stared at him, my head tilted curiously, signaling him to continue. "I see you hanging out with the Uchiha a lot."

"Not a whole lot," I answered back, "So?"

Suddenly, he stopped walking and turned to me; seriousness was written all over his face as he looked deep in my eyes with a frown. Hesitantly, he said, "Don't hang around him too much, or just don't at all."

"Why?" I blurted.

"No specific reason," Sai muttered and resumed walking. "Just that…Uchiha's pretty… you know, messed up."

"Messed up?"

"You know he's in this program for teen offenders who got charged with a bunch of pretty violent crimes, right? That's what I mean by messed up."

"You're part of that curriculum too," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but I'm out in two or three weeks. Uchiha's gonna be staying for months. He screws up one more time and he's off to juvie. You know he takes these anger-management sessions?"

That wasn't very hard to believe; Sasuke had a very short temper. He'd explode out of nowhere about anything and anytime, depending on his mood, which was usually set in the Grumpy mode.

"Look, I know I can't tell you what to do, but just… be careful around the Uchiha, okay? I have a bad feeling about the guy…" he said distantly, deep in thought of his suspicions.

I was a little confused.

Less than a day ago, I sat beside Sasuke, hanging out with him when we were supposed to be in our own classes, and he had admitted that the punch I landed on him was good –well, indirectly, but more or less, he did. Everything was alright, then. He seemed nice now that we've got that truce going on. We might not be friends, but were at the very least two people that acknowledged each other's existence.

But take note: he _seemed _nice. But who knew what went on in that head of his?

"What kind of feeling?" I asked as we approached Art Land.

"I don't know…" he answered uncertainly, "Right now he's all about chance and change, but that's just a cover. Something's wrong with him. I just don't know what."

* * *

**Rogue sent at 10:31AM: Do you want to play a game?**

That was the first window that had popped out of my screen the moment I had logged on a computer of my Graphics classroom, later that afternoon. And, with Sai's words causing a swarm of different opinions and sides within me, I was really not in the mood. In fact, I was pissed off. A second, more recent window, popped up.

**Rogue: Do you want to play a game?**

**lilpinkchiq: stop talking to me**

**Rogue: Do you want to play a game?**

**lilpinkchiq: no. go away**

**Rogue: Do you want to play a game?**

It was as though his replies were programmed, predetermined to send the same message every time.

**lilpinkchiq: tell you what, I'll make you a deal.**

**lilpinkchiq: I'll play your game, and when we're done, you leave me alone. Deal?**

**Rogue: Fair enough. Let's play. **

Well, that was quite easy. If I knew I could easily buy his disappearance from my life through a game, I would've done so much, much earlier.

**lilpinkchiq: fine. Lets do this. What do you wanna play? Chess? Pool?**

**Rogue: no. I'd like to play something much more exciting.**

**lilpinkchiq: well hurry up. name it.**

**Rogue: Q&A**

I blinked.

**lilpinkchiq: excuse me?**

**Rogue: the game is question and answer.**

**Rogue: you answer my questions. You don't have to do anything. Let me do everything else**

_Everything else?_

**lilpinkchiq: it doesn't seem much of a game**

**Rogue: not yet. But it will… **_**progress. **_

**Rogue: game?**

I shrugged. How hard could it be?

**lilpinkchiq: ask away**

**Rogue: If you could go back in time, where would you go?**

**lilpinkchiq: The Renaissance**

**Rogue: If you had the chance to see into the future, would you?**

**lilpinkchiq: I'd rather not know.**

**Rogue: If you could kill anyone, who would it be?**

I blinked_._

**lilpinkchiq: …I have someone in mind. But you won't know them.**

**Rogue: try me**

**lilpinkchiq: Kin Tsuchi.**

…

**Rogue: I see…**

_**Rogue has logged off**_

I blinked again.

Was it over?

Well, I _did_ play his little game—which was completely stupid—so, as was his part of the deal, he left. In a snap of a finger, he was gone.

I was confused. The _what-the-hell? _type of confused. I mean, what kind of game _was _that? Because, whatever it was, it was foolish, as I've already said, and really useless and frankly, it did not make much sense.

No. It didn't make any sense at all.

But the rogue was gone. I supposed that was all that mattered.

* * *

I've always disliked the news. I was never one for current events. I found them dull and uninteresting and tedious and dry and every other word that was a synonym for _boring. _

It's a good thing, adults always say, because it helps us teenagers become more aware of the current society, rather than simply revolving our own little world around a sun that was consisted of music, bands, high school drama, clothes, image, reputations, friends, backstabbers, crushes, boyfriends and girlfriends and everything else that kids between the age of thirteen to nineteen obsessed over.

Naturally, I shared a similar opinion and attitude with the rest of the world's teenage population towards news reports that go on twenty-four-seven, day after day, broadcasting reports that were all alike with each other.

Ironic how, in the morning news, they routinely begin by saying "Good Morning!" and then carrying on by saying how it _wasn't._ They were as negative as they were off-putting. They publicized the world's melancholy—hunger in third-world countries, civil wars tearing up a nation… terrorism… bombs… shootings…_local accidents_—which was what was currently on at the very moment, as I waited for the microwave to finish heating up my macaroni-and-cheese.

"…_eighteen-wheeler drove around corner. Apparently, it was too long to make the turn, and the wheels perched up the curve of the sidewalk, where the pedestrians stood waiting for the light to change to cross the street. Two obtained minor injuries, while a seventeen-year-old girl who was merely walking her way to school got caught in the truck and was crushed. She died on the scene, only earlier this morning. Witnesses suspect that she might've been pushed, although the police are denying that statement and says it was a mere accident…"_

I stared at the Flat my dad had had attached in our living room wall just earlier this month, and with its widescreen feature, I could see clearly the scene of the accident being reported in the news. A huge truck was visible in the background of the street corner, filled with cops, ambulances, traffic officers, and a crowd of passers-by in search for gossip.

A band of yellow tape surrounded the area, and in the center of it was a deformed body lying on the ground. I found it rather sick that they still hadn't taken the body and burnt it somewhere; no, instead they decided to leave the corpse out in the open like an exhibit for the gore-museum.

The camera showed a chain of different things; first the two injured pedestrians, then cops, then officers trying to maneuver traffic, then the truck, the people, and finally the body of the girl lying on the pavement, still bleeding.

It was disgusting, and a definite wreck of appetite for my delicious mac-and-cheese, but I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away in spite of that. It wasn't long before I realized the reason why.

The girl… her long black hair was matted with dry crimson, her body crushed and limbs angled awkwardly, sprawled just beside the sidewalk...

_Kin_.

* * *

_**Kin Tsuchi**_

She walked down the street with her chest popped, chin up, neck exposed, and a butt swaying from side to side. Everyone stared, though the male population was all that mattered to her. They checked her out, from naïve little twelve-year-old boys, to hot and sophisticated thirty year old men, and horny teenage guys in between—yes, they all gave her a once-over, twice, and some maybe three times.

This was her strut, every single day, and Kin loved it; the glory and admiration—she loved it. She knew she was being bitch; but by human nature, that fact just tended not to matter anymore once all heads were turned and attention was focused on her and only her.

Just as she was about to cross the street, the light for pedestrians changed from the walking man to the red hand sign that symbolized Stop. Darn stop light—way to ruin The Strut. People began to crowd alongside her as they waited to cross the street. They were completely ruining her look, completely; it was too cramped up now, too warm to pose, and they were blocking the views of the hot males that were trying to check her out.

Kin held her head up high and stood on one foot, making sure her hip and butt stuck out.

Out of nowhere, a growling noise was heard, first faintly, though its volume began increasing over time. Turning towards the sound, she saw a truck heading towards their direction, and then unexpectedly, it turned right around the corner they stood in.

Instinctively, Kin stepped back, narrowly missing the truck's massive wheels that would've crushed her six-hundred-dollar stilettos. All the people around her gasped as the rest of the truck's length drove around the corner, within a foot of crushing all of them. Kin got a hold of her posture and stood with her head up again, waiting for the stupid, friggen truck to drive by already.

Suddenly, she felt a slight pressure on her back. Originally, she thought it was some pervert trying to grope her, but the following words that were whispered huskily in her ear told her it wasn't.

"_This is from Sakura."_

The force on her back increased, and soon, she lost her balance and was thrown forwards.

She heard a crack, a scream erupting from her own mouth, and then… an infinite sound of nothingness.

* * *

_Memo: I reread this chapter for last-minute proof-reading, and it did not go well. I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I wrote this chapter, but I was overusing dashes and for some reason I was using present tense in some of the paragraphs. I felt like pulling my hair out. It was that bad. Anyway, I edited it. Hopefully it isn't so irritating anymore._

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Loving the sun,  
__Keelah_


	13. Hide and Seek

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Three…_

…_Two…_

…_One._

_Found you…_

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter TWELVE  
**__**Hide and Seek**_

As I made my way to the Academy, my mind ended up dividing in two.

One side thought about how the heck my parents could send me off to school, on foot, by myself merely because they were too lazy to get off the bed and drive me there instead. Furthermore, I didn't believe that _jetlag _from having to travel for company trips was a good-enough reason to make their daughter walk to school, especially since they were well aware of autumn's two-degree, early-morning temperatures and its sub-zero wind chills that currently whipped passed me.

Another side thought about Kin, and, while I tried avoiding the thought of it, her _death. _A part of me couldn't believe she's gone. I mean, she's _gone;_ as in, never coming back. Just like that. It had me wondering, where was she now? Was her ghost still among us? Did she feel pain? See her life flash before her just before she died? Or simply sudden blankness, and _snap_, she was gone? When she woke up this morning, did she feel anything? Like a premonition of some sort? Or was she completely, utterly clueless that she was going to die?

These questions circulated my head as I made my way through the whirlwind of orange leaves that flew around abundantly (given that Konoha contained great woodlands with seemingly endless boundaries within its region, filled with innumerable, hundred-year-old trees) Eventually, I found myself slumping down upon a chair in my first period class, Biology.

Ino, surprisingly, had taken the course as well; for the sole reason that she thought it'd be an easy class, given that I was there to help her through just about everything. This irrational thinking resulted in her being stuck in Bio class, with countless experiments on liquids and chemicals that stained her clothes and bloody, gory dissections of animals and body organs that made her puke.

She was already settled into her designated seat beside me (Ino was my lab partner; the most useless, girlish, puking lab partner I've ever had) with a grin that she couldn't seem to help but display on her face. That was unusually weird, considering all the facial expressions I've seen of Ino's in this class were distinctly ones that hinted disgust, revulsion, abhorrence and nausea.

"What's with the dorky grin?" I whispered as our teacher began the lesson, handing out instructional worksheets for a dissection we were about to have the next class. Rats. Joy.

"Guess." She said, still smiling.

"The rats we're gonna slice up escaped?" I asked hopefully.

Ino shook her head, "Even better. I saw Shikamaru on the way here this morning."

"And… he's gonna help the rodents escape so we won't have to see their intestines on Thursday?"

"Forget the rats!" she snapped, "I saw him, and he was with that girl again. I hate her already. She's always clinging on to him. Maybe he has a thing for older women. But then, it doesn't even look like he likes her company. I thought maybe he'll break up with her and -_Ow! _What the heck, Sak'?" she yelled when I pinched her arm.

"That was to wake you up from your daydream."

She stuck her tongue out and was just about to retort something back when a buzz interrupted her, followed by a voice—obviously Tsunade's—from the P.A. system.

"_Sorry for this interruption. Attention all Hidden Leaves students: as most of you may have already heard in the news, a fellow student of yours, Kin Tsuchi of twelfth grade, had just passed away this morning on her way to school. Kin was a good pupil, and had a 4.0 average in her studies. We are incredibly sorry for the loss of a great student, and we mourn with her family for the loss of a great daughter. May we all rise for a moment of silence in the memory of Kin Tsuchi._"

Everyone in our class rose, but no one was silent. At once, murmurs broke out, despite our teacher's desperate attempts on silencing us.

"Can you believe the bitch is actually gone?" Ino asked, fighting a grin that was slowly forming on her lips. "I don't know whether I'm gonna be sad or just break out doing the happy dance."

Like me, Ino had never really been fond of Kin—or, okay, so she hated her, but mostly everyone did as well. The girl's guts and confidence and bitchiness were just too easy for us in the normal level of the social ladder to hate. The higher, more popular seniors, though, loved Kin and praised her so much it was stupid.

To Ino's statement, I nodded, agreeing with her. I didn't want to feel elated by the fact that someone had just _died _because that's a little sick, no matter how mean and bitchy and a backstabber of a person that someone was, but all the same I couldn't help it. I've disliked Kin for so long that I simply didn't mind now that she was gone.

In the corner of my eye, through the doorway of our classroom (of which the staff insisted on leaving open to give a friendlier, welcoming "atmosphere" to the school) I saw Dosu Kinuta being ushered through the hallway by a teacher, in all probability excused and headed for the Counselors' Office.

Dosu—also known as the boy who had been with Abumi that time four years ago when they tried to beat up Sasuke. He was a student here at HLA, as he along with Abumi were both spoiled brats. (It was no wonder why they found amusement in bullying the young Sasuke, who, then and now, had no family, no relatives, no anything.) He was Kin's best friend, if Kin having a friend at all was even believable.

I was guessing Dosu took it pretty hard, his best friend dying and all. I'd get all sad too if I were in his case; actually, I'd probably be bawling my eyes out, no matter how loud and obnoxious and deafening and irritating _my _best friends were. Despite that, I'd probably do anything for Naruto and Ino.

With Kin, though, that was a whole new case. It didn't affect me. It's a little insensitive, but there was no other way to say it truthfully without being uncaring.

I remembered my last conversation with the Rogue. It was only yesterday afternoon that I'd being talking about how I'd kill Kin if I could kill anyone. And now, _ta-da! _She's dead. Mental powers? I wished. It was quite a coincidence though.

Weird. Really weird.

I shuddered.

* * *

By second period, everyone knew about Kin's death—bearing in mind that its announcement was publicized to the entire school—and by lunchtime, everyone was talking about it. Some were even crying, which was pathetic as it was surprising, in the view of the fact that I've never seen Kin with any real friends; except perhaps Dosu, but _he _had been excused for the rest of the day. Whether he was actually that depressed or was only using it as an excuse to skip out of class, I didn't know.

It was rather maddening though, to turn around in every corner, to walk down every hallway, and hear someone whispering about the same subject matter over and over again. It wouldn't last—that, I knew for sure. It was only a matter of two or three days' time until people got tired and moved on to the next available hearsay, forgetting all about Kin in the process.

At the meantime, to escape the never ending chatters in the hallways, I segregated myself in the Library, a place I've frequently been in for the past week, and logged on, something I've frequently been doing for the past week, as well.

The first thing I sighted was Rogue's bolded screen name under the _Online_ list. The first thing I _did _was ignore what I'd just seen, though that proved evidently ineffective seeing as, a second later, I received a message from the very person.

**Rogue: …and she's down.**

Hadn't he said he'd leave me alone if I answered that stupid question he called a game? Well, I'd done that. So why was he still speaking to me?

Instead, I asked.

**lilpinkchiq: what?**

**Rogue: Down. Dead.**

**lilpinkchiq: what are you talking about?**

**Rogue: didn't you say if you could kill anyone, you'd kill Kin?**

Suddenly, I didn't like where our conversation was going.

**lilpinkchiq: … yes. And?**

**Rogue: and I did.**

All I did, all I _could _do, was stare at the screen, gaping.

**lilpinkchiq: what are you trying to say?**

**Rogue: I. Killed. Kin Tsuchi**

I logged off, stood up so fast that the chair I'd been sitting on fell over, and ran out the library. I kept running until I heard Morino's deep voice thunder a "No running in the hallways!" statement that all teachers and school staff seemed to have perfectly mastered, but even then, I continued on in a fast walk. Not as though I was really aware of my actions. I was lost inside my own mind with my own thoughts.

The Rogue had been kidding around—well, obviously. I refused to believe that he had actually gone and killed Kin. I mean, Kin wasn't even killed in the first place. She was dead, that's for sure, but she was certainly not killed. People get hit by trucks all the time. She wasn't _killed_.

That's ridiculous.

And so what if he and I have been talking about killing Kin if I could just yesterday? It was just a coincidence.

Just one hell of a coincidence.

* * *

By around nine o'clock in the evening, when school was already over, my homework already done, my laptop already turned on and my messenger already logged on, I, by some miracle, had managed to forget all about the Rogue and his disturbing claims.

The miracle that had been able to enliven me was the plain window that popped to my screen the moment I signed on, which now currently blinked in orange highlight repeatedly, seeking attention.

**[sabakunogaara01] (View Profile) has added you to his/her buddy list**

**[] Add to my list**

**[] Block this person**

Usually I had such bad luck. Now, I've received two invites from two cute guys within the span of seven days. Truly a miracle indeed, considering the fact that Sasuke and Gaara didn't seem the type to notice girls, and especially, of all people, _me_—someone who the entire male population appeared to have signed a contract for against noticing and asking out.

Receiving an invite from Gaara was a shock; not quite as big of a shock as Sasuke's, but it was pretty close, and therefore it was _not _an overreaction to have my stupid heart thudding in my ears.

Suddenly, I noticed how long I've been staring at the computer screen (what, five, ten minutes?) and quickly I accepted the invite before he logged off. Before long, a "_ding!" _erupted from the computer speakers.

**sabakunogaara01: Sakura**

**lilpinkchiq: Hi**

**sabakunogaara01: You remember who I am?**

**lilpinkchiq: The red head who stalked me home last week?**

**sabakunogaara01: You're quite right. I didn't **_**stalk **_**you though**

**lilpinkchiq: How did you get my email?**

**sabakunogaara01: top secret. It's hush-hush. Can't tell.**

**lilpinkchiq: oh?**

**sabakunogaara01: used my mental powers.**

**lilpinkchiq: uhuh**

**sabakunogaara01: I'm psychic.**

**lilpinkchiq: lame**

**sabakunogaara01: I can read your mind.**

**lilpinkchiq: right**

**sabakunogaara01: I got it from Uchiha**

**lilpinkchiq: oh.**

**sabakunogaara01: he's got this paper with your name and email written on it on his desk. If he was a girl, he'd probably draw hearts in as well**

**lilpinkchiq: wow. Right.**

**sabakunogaara01: it's a little ironic**

**sabakunogaara01: at first he's all hate for you and now he's… well, not hating. What happened?**

**lilpinkchiq: we made a truce**

**sabakunogaara01: and how's that truce thing going?**

**lilpinkchiq: neutral.**

**sabakunogaara01: interesting.**

**lilpinkchiq: you really think so?**

**sabakunogaara01: I take no interest in the Uchiha.**

But my conversation was cut short when another window appeared on my screen.

**Rogue: there you are.**

I frowned. _Not again. _I thought about signing out like I did back in the Library, but as though he could read my thoughts, Rogue said:

**Rogue: don't you try signing out. It'll only be useless**

**Rogue: So who's next?**

**lilpinkchiq: excuse me?**

**Rogue: Who's next for the kill?**

My fingers seemed detached from my body, because I couldn't control them. Instinctively, I typed: **you're sick. **In consideration of his words, a thought began forming in my mind, but just as quickly as it emerged, I fought the idea, rejecting to believe that I had caused the death of Kin.

_Kin wasn't killed, _I told myself, over and over again. _She's just dead. Not killed._

Whoever this Rogue was, I was under the impression that he was some kind of killer-wannabe psycho like those in movies. But looking back in the past, I found that hard to imagine. That stranger who I'd chatted with, talked about the most random things with, who I began to secretly like… how could two personalities so different from each other be contained in one person?

I didn't get enough time to think through my thoughts though, as a sharp bell rung in my ear, slicing through my contemplations.

**Rogue: alright, fine. While you decide on that, let's play another game.**

When I didn't respond, he merely continued on.

**Rogue: let's play…hide and seek.**

**lilpinkchiq: on the internet? That' stupid**

**Rogue: oh no. not on the internet.**

I frowned.

**lilpinkchiq: where then?**

**Rogue: you'll see.**

Slowly, my heart began to increase its pace…

**Rogue: You don't have to do anything. Let me do the seeking. You stay right there, at home, in front of your computer.**

_**While I go out and look for you…**_ the beating went faster. _Thud… thud… thud. _Just what exactly was he implying?

**Rogue: I'm going to count one to ten… and then, I'm going to look for you. OK?**

It was then that the countdown began:

**Rogue: 10…**

_Thud, thud, thud._

**Rogue: 9…**

Perhaps I wouldn't have been as scared if I wasn't home alone. Unfortunately at the moment however, I was, in an empty house currently occupied by none other than myself. Just thinking about it had me shuddering.

**Rogue: 8…**

_Thud, thud, thud…_

**Rogue: 7…**

My parents had left shortly after I arrived from school earlier on today, though not before going off into their customary state of recurring reminders to lock all doors, shut all windows, and turn off all the stoves –words that I have learned to ignore, having it repeated over and over only a dozen times each week.

**Rogue: 6…**

They probably informed me of where they were going, but again I hadn't paid any attention. I regretted my actions now that I was alone (though not for long, if this count continues) without the slightest idea of where to go…

**Rogue: 5…**

…or who to call...in case of emergencies. In case something happened.

**Rogue: 4…**

_Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud._

**Rogue: 3…**

What was he going to do?

**Rogue: 2…**

"…_and then, I'm going to look for you." _Just what exactly did he mean?

**Rogue: …1**

Suddenly, I didn't want to know the answers to my questions. Unfortunately though, it was too late.

**Rogue: Ready or not, here I come…**

He was coming.

For a few moments, there was silence. Nothing was heard except for the thud-thud-thud noises my heart made, its sound seemingly amplified in a hundred fold within the stillness of the room. Moments passed, and then a few more, still I no longer received any messages from the Rogue. I began to think he had finally left me alone, but I no, I wouldn't be so stupid as to hope for that again.

Eventually, l lost count of how long I'd been staring neurotically at the computer screen. It felt like a long, long time. Just when I was about to log off, though…

**Rogue: I wonder, as I'm driving around Konoha streets, where little Sakura is…**

I held my breath. He couldn't really be looking for me right now, could he?

**Rogue: could her house be here… in downtown Konoha? Hm. No**

Apparently so, he could.

**Rogue: could she be here, in the Woodlands subdivision? No…**

**Rogue: could she live near the Academy?**

**Rogue: Near the Rec, then? Ah, not quite.**

**Rogue: Little Sakura lives in the rich part of Konoha, where the houses are three stories high and the front yards are green and fancy**

I was chewing on my lip, and for how long, I had no idea. But judging from the metallic taste, I'd say for a long time.

**Rogue: those houses seem pretty big, Sakura. It must have lots of dark corners as well.**

Involuntarily, I took a look around, and couldn't help but think he was right. Within my room only, there were two dark corners already present: one around the corner that lead to the mini-hallway in my room and another one in my closet, both eerily murky and frightening. Instantly, I turned away.

**Rogue: now which house is hers?**

As adrenaline ran through my veins, every single one of my senses heightened unnervingly.

**Rogue: not this one…**

Suddenly, I felt the light hairs at the back of my neck standing up.

**Rogue: not this…**

Suddenly, I saw every tiny movement about the room, whether it was the clock ticking seconds, or papers slightly wavering.

**Rogue: nope, not this one either…**

Suddenly, I reacted to every little sound that reached my ears—the wind howling, tree branches scratching against the window glass, soft bells clinging out of the blue, leaves and twigs crunching not so far away…

**Rogue: wait –ah…**

**Rogue: guess what?**

I hesitated.

**lilpinkchiq: …what?**

**Rogue: Game Over.**

My eyes widened slightly.

**Rogue: FOUND YOU.**

My heart skipped a beat. Dread filled up every inch of my body, and it was only now that I realized my hands were shaking and sweating, and for that reason I couldn't possibly reply back.

**Rogue: at least, I found your house.**

Somehow, though, I managed.

**lilpinkchiq: you're lying**

**Rogue: oh? But I'm standing in front of your house right now.**

Liar, liar, _liar._

**Rogue: opening the little black gates…**

**lilpinkchiq: stop it.**

He's right about the gates.

**Rogue: walking across the yard…**

_Stop it._

**Rogue: and now up the steps of the front porch... **

He's right about the stairs.

**Rogue: up the wide marble stairs…**

I panicked. _No, he couldn't be-…_

**Rogue: standing before the front doors…**

**lilpinkchiq: shut up.**

_He's not here. He's not in front of my house…_

**Rogue: reaching out for the door knob…**

**lilpinkchiq: go **_**away**_

I wanted to leave. To log off and run away; but I couldn't possible do any of those. If I was to run away, and Rogue _was _standing rightin front of my house… where was I to run? How would I escape?

It was then that one thing was clarified in my mind. _I'm trapped inside. _Like a sitting duck.

**Rogue: I'm coming in, Sakura**

No. No, no, no…

**Rogue: turning the doorknob…**

No. It's fine. I'm fine. The security system's on. The door's locked.

**lilpinkchiq: stop it! just stop it!**

_Thudthudthudthudthud._

**Rogue: oops. Wait a second—**

For a moment, I allowed myself to give in to the flicker of hope that I felt. But all too soon reality came crashing down and I knew the rogue would not simply stop just because I pleaded so.

**Rogue: now what do we have here?**

I froze.

**lilpinkchiq: what?**

…**..**

…

**Rogue: You left your door unlocked.**

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

As he sat unmoving upon the comfy, rolling office chair, staring intently and distantly upon the dull, white walls of the house, Sasuke savoured the evening's surrounding peacefulness—something that was almost considered extinct in this household inhabited by noisy, unorganized teenage boys.

Of course, there was the sound of the storm that raged on and on further in the dim night; not to mention the faint yet distinctive sounds of snoring that came from nearly every single room of the house. But of course, that was the closest to silence and peacefulness this place could get, and Sasuke was not about to let it go to waste.

Much too sooner than he preferred, the Uchiha's silent brooding was disturbed by a sharp chiming sound from the damn speakers which he forgot to turn off.

Along with the sound came a window popping up with bold, all capital letters that read:

**lilpinkchiq: HELP**

Sasuke _had _to raise an eyebrow. It hadn't been the kind of interruption he expected.

**lilpinkchiq: SASUKE HELP ME**

**lilpinkchiq: sasuke? please tell me you're there.**

Reluctantly, he replied.

**theuchihasasuke: what's up?**

**lilpinkchiq: come over**

He blinked.

**theuchihasasuke: are you insane? It's 11:50**

**lilpinkchiq: please Sasuke, NOW**

**theuchihasasuke: man you **_**are **_**insane. It's storming outside**

**lilpinkchiq: someone's breaking in my house!**

He frowned.

**theuchihasasuke: who?**

**lilpinkchiq: I don't freaking know! there's someone downstairs, on my front porch. I just know it. **

**lilpinkchiq: sasuke? sasuke PLEASE**

…

Sasuke thought it over, wanting simply to ignore Sakura and go straight to bed. However as he read over her frantic calls, those evident with fear, his following actions were done based more on instincts rather than consciousness.

**theuchihasasuke: Is anyone there with you?**

**lilpinkchiq: no. no one's here. im home alone. My parents are out**

**lilpinkchiq: he's right outside Sasuke!**

**theuchihasasuke: listen to me, Sakura. Turn off all the lights. Close the windows. Shut all the blinds. Then I want you to go to a room, and lock the door. **_**Don't**_** open it. I'll be there in a few minutes. Just stay there**

**lilpinkchiq: hurry**

_**theuchihasasuke has logged off**_

* * *

_Memo: I'm seriously Asian-failing everything. It's taking so much time and effort just to maintain a "B" for Science. I'm going to focus on school for the time being. I'll update as soon as summer vacation starts, promise. That'll be around the end of June. Just a little patience is all I'm asking._

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Back to physics homeworking,  
__Keelah_


	14. The Unlocked Door

**Instant Message  
****By "Keelah"**

_

* * *

_

One by one, I heard each door creak open. The two spare rooms we had in the house. The storage room. The bathroom. The one that lead up to the attic. And finally, the study- the room I currently was hiding in.

He found me.

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTEEN  
The Unlocked Door**_

Darkness engulfed my whole being, and I prayed it would entirely as I curled among the concealing shadows, hoping that in the process I would be masked as well.

The only source of light that enabled me to see at least the vaguest shapes was a narrow gap between the two slightly ajar doors; giving me viewable access (no matter how murky that view might be) to the rest of the study.

The closet was tiny, and with its walls so near my body, closing in on all sides, I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. My breathing grew ragged and loud as a result of my new found fear of close confinements. I wanted to get out there, but knew couldn't—unless I wanted to run into _him._

He was here.

Either he was still outside or now inside the house, he was here, no less than several steps from finding me. I cowered further into the shadows as this thought crossed my mind.

I realized I was shaking –and unlike earlier, it was not merely my hands that shook, but my entire body. It wouldn't stop. I wanted to stop trembling, for the reason that instability would cause me to be careless, and carelessness would make noise. I had to stay silent, stay hidden, at least until help came—which I silently begged that it would. Sasuke better not have dismissed by emergency call as a joke.

Looking through the narrow slit between the closet doors, I scanned the mini-office. The room was empty, of course. I'd locked the doors before retreating in the closet. Still, as I peeked through I couldn't elude the fear of finding someone staring right back at me. I shuddered at the thought, and then rested my gaze upon the door. It was still- and I wished it would remain that way.

Each passing second felt like an hour in this closet. It was hardly silent. Outside, the wind continued to howl and trees continued to batter against the windows- occasionally causing me to jump. Not to mention my not-so-quiet hyperventilation. I shut my eyes and forced down the panic, hoping to somehow calm down as I tried to block out the background noises. It was in the middle of meditation that I heard it; though faint sounds, I knew what they were.

A soft creak. The slow opening of the front door.

As an automatic response, my head snapped up, with ears alert and eyes wide open, straining and dreading in unison to hear for any other resonance. This time, however, I did not hear any more.

Nothing but the loud and rapid _thudthud-thudthud _of my heart ringing in my ears, deafening me. It seemed there was nothing I could do, no calming lie I could tell myself that would efficiently silence the palpitation. My heart was uncontrollable.

_Thudthud-thudthud-thudthud-thudthud…_

_Thump._

I froze. That was _not_ my heart beat.

Surreptitious footsteps sounded from the living room.

"_Sakura…" _I gasped at the low, cautious voice that had whispered my name from a distance. A creak was heard from each step of stair, one by one, as whoever it was made his way up the second level of the house- nearing my location inch by inch.

"_Anyone here…?"_

Recoiling deeper within the closet until my back came in contact with the wall, I shut my eyes again and buried my face in my hands, as though the deed would in some way make me invisible, make me safe and out of this circumstance.

Why hadn't I locked the door, I began to regret. And why hadn't I bothered to pay attention when Dad told me where they were going?! If I made a run for it (which I doubt I had the guts to do) where would I go? Who could I call? I didn't even know if my parents were still in the country, or whether they'd already taken a plane across the world for another one of their company trips.

"_Sakura…where are you…?"_

My heart skipped a beat. He was on the top of the stairs already. I could tell by the nearness of his voice.

With every step closer, the floorboards creaked beneath his feet–something I wouldn't normally observe, but fretfulness had me jumping from every sound my ears managed to hear. I shifted with restlessness as he made his way down the hall in an ever-so-gradual pace.

I heard the door to my bedroom open, and then a few seconds later, so did the door to the master's bedroom. One by one, I heard each door creak. The two spare rooms we had in the house. The storage room. The bathroom. The entryway that lead to the attic. And finally, the study- the room I was currently in.

From the narrow gap of the closet doors, I watched, afraid, as the doorknob slowly twisted and clicked as the lock did its job. It twisted again as the person on the other side tried once more to open it, and the same thing happened.

"_Sakura?"_

I flinched, wondering how long it would take for him to break down the door. I cowered with vulnerability.

_He found me._

"Hey, you there?" The handle budged. "Open the door."

I couldn't move.

"Sakura?" The lock on the doorknob clinked and clanked. "It's me. It's safe." And suddenly familiarity dawned to me.

"Sakura…?" he tried the door once more, harsher. "Are you there? Open the door. Sakura!" Instantly, I stumbled onto my feet and bolted out of the closet, glad to be free from the wardrobe's tight confinements.

"Open the damn door, Sakura!"

Shortly after the lock was undone and the door swung open, I looked up to find a very anxious Uchiha standing in the entryway. The moment he saw me, relief instantly flooded him, and I could say the same about myself. The sensation came crashing down a little too much and too quickly that I soon felt tears stinging my eyes.

"I thought you were dead or something." Then, observing me form head to toe, Sasuke snidely remarked, "You look worse than dead, though." _How sensitive._

My only response, however, was a silent gape, trying but failing to form coherent words while still overwhelmed by the sudden force of relief that had just hit me. Sensing my inability to converse, Sasuke grabbed my shoulders and began shaking me –I don't know what the hell he expected out of that, but it sure wasn't helping. "Snap out of it."

"Did you see anyone?" I asked, my voice unusually raspy.

Sasuke didn't seem to hear me, or, if he did so, had completely ignored my question. He looked up and turned in all directions, his eyes warily scanning every inch of darkness they gazed upon, looking for any sign of an unknown presence hiding beneath the black blanket. After a moment, he muttered, "Come on," and shoved me forward.

Okay, so Sasuke sucks at the whole comforting thing. What's new?

He led me down the wide and curving stairs, its bottom ending just to the side of the living room, and I was still quite shaken by the time he pushed me (and roughly might I add) on one of the couches, as though this wasn't my own home and I didn't know where to sit. Either that or he thought I was mentally handicapped and unable to act on my own; though at the moment, I sort of was, there or thereabouts.

Just after he dumped me on the sofa so quickly like I was a living contagious disease, he ordered, "Stay here." I looked at him with question, to which he responded by explaining, "I'll check the house."

He walked off, and then stopping just at the foot of the stairway, where he must've spotted the long, wooden object leaning against the corner nearby the steps. A baseball bat. It had been my dad's when he used to play.

Reluctance visibly waved over him (something I found rather strange) as took he bat. After a lingering glance at my direction, he disappeared out the back door.

Yet again, I was alone, single handed in the unlit living room. It occurred to me that I should've switched on the lights, or at least made Sasuke do it while he was still here. The control was on the other side of the room, opposite from where I currently sat, but I didn't dare stand up and cross the room on my own.

I fiddled with my fingers, mindlessly picking on the couch's leather covering. Where was Sasuke? He was taking too long_. No, wait_. I glanced at the wall clock. It was dark, but there was enough light emitted from the moon and through the luminous curtains to tell where the hands pointed. It had only been a minute and a half since he'd gone. But in this state of anxiousness, it felt as though each minute was multiplied by the dozen.

Every furniture cast shadows of its own- altogether forming odd, non-patterned shapes in various sizes. One in the corner by the flat TV and the curtains appeared to form a vague outline of a man, which scared the living crap out of me, despite knowing it was only other shadows randomly adjoined together.

I turned away before the man-like outline got to my head. I was already freaked out enough, thank you very much. The disturbing atmosphere of my surroundings made me regret ever letting Sasuke leave. As a result, I had to endure another torment in the dark; and I never even knew I was afraid of darkness until then.

Alright. Now Sasuke was taking _too _long. It had been… three minutes since he left. It didn't take that long to search a house, did it?

What if… what if something happened to him? What if someone was actually inside the house, and had hurt Sasuke? Or, worse, what if _he _hurt me, perhaps even kill me? He could do so, swiftly and silently, and Sasuke would not even suspect a thing.

He'd only see my lifeless body bleeding on the ground with, I don't know, a knife sticking out of my throat perhaps? What if _he _was right here, right now, in the room with me—merely invisible to my sight? With that thought, I looked around on impulse, and it didn't take long before my gaze landed on the corner where I'd imagined the human-like silhouette. It was still there. Though I knew it was all in my head, I watched it carefully and fearfully as a part of me screamed _"Look away, Sakura. Look away." _

I stared at the silhouette, in the back of my head expecting it to move, to slowly walk out of its hiding place, revealing _him_, and then--

"_Sakura--"_

I shrieked.

Sasuke, who had appeared quite out of nowhere and was now standing a few feet behind me, jumped—literally. "Jesus!" he exclaimed, wholly startled, "Freaking _calm down_!"

"You scared me!"

With an annoyed eye-roll gesture, he made his way to the kitchen and began rummaging every corner, every dark patch, every possible hideaway. "Are you always home alone like this?"

"My parents are out… somewhere…"

"In some fancy restaurant." _Huh?_ Sasuke noticed my puzzlement and waved a small piece of paper he had in hand, "Found this note on the counter. There's a number here too." Right. A note. I hadn't thought of checking the house for any sort of note- even though that was quite the custom in this family.

As he read the note, Sasuke put no effort into hiding the scowl on his face. With disgust, he stated, "The Hyuuga dinner party."

"You know about that?"

"I know it's a banquet that Neji wasn't invited to, even though it's a _family_ celebration. He didn't even get informed." The brief show of emotion surprised me. It was as though he hated the Hyuuga's for leaving Neji out, and I couldn't formulate any reason as to why he would even care.

He stood up straight before I could ask him and closed the cupboard with a kick. "No one's here."

I shook my head, "That can't be."

"Hey, I checked the whole house, alright? And when I got here, I looked around the yard. Front and back. No one. And it's raining. So there's gotta be footprints on the mud, right? But I saw nothing."

At the mention of rain, it was only then that I noticed the obvious fact that Sasuke was soaked to the skin, wearing a water-down navy blue jacket that seemed more suitable for an early morning in springtime than a stormy night of November. The counter he was leaning against was slowly forming small pools of rainwater dripping from his clothes, and then, looking further up, I noticed his hair. Its characteristic, natural spikes were now flattened by the water, sticking to his face. I couldn't help but take note of how his pale skin complemented with the blackness of his hair.

"He probably left then." I said before getting carried away by my thoughts, "But he _was_ here. I know someone was. I'm sure of it."

He studied me for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "You're not…making this up, are you?"

"No!" I exploded.

"So he just completely disappeared, without a trace." he concluded with mock. Without giving me enough time to reply, he continued, "You want to know what I think?" No. But I had a feeling he was gonna tell me either way. "I think you just got freaked out. I mean, I can see why. You're alone. It's a big, empty house, in the middle of the night. There's a storm. And… well, you seem like pretty gutless type of girl." I twitched. "So you got scared, and imagined someone breaking in and all that. It's all in your head."

I could tell he was hinting insaneness, but I wasn't insane and I wasn't making it up. He didn't know the fact that the Rogue had actually described the city, streets, the front yard and the porch, and even the make of the stairway –each description too specific and correct to simply be a lucky guess.

"I'm not making it up!" I cried in attempt to make him believe me, though the act itself must persuade him to do otherwise. I was acting quite insane. Calming down, I tried again, this time, in a soft insisting whisper: "I'm not making it up…"

He stared at me, frowning in contemplation, perhaps debating in his mind whether or not I was telling the truth, whether or not I was going mad. After a moment's thought, he growled in irritation. "Why the hell did I come here in the first place?" he muttered under his breath, though I heard it clearly amid the house's silence.

Without thinking, I asked, "Why _did_ you?"

"I don't know." He replied frustrated, more to himself than me. He glared at me, as though it was my fault—well partly it was, but _he _was the one who chose to come; and to a certain extent, rather heroically. The thought of having my personal knight-in-shining-armor would've been thrilling and romantic, if only it weren't for the fact that that said knight was currently giving me a death-glare. "Why did _you_ call _me_?"

"I don't know." I replied, mimicking him, when in truth I really didn't.

Edging between the state of fear and panic, and the computer being the closest contacting device to me at that moment, I had clicked the first screen name I spotted when I opened my messenger. I had typed in "Help" before I even realized I was talking to Sasuke. When I _did _notice though, I hadn't cared much, because, truly, I was desperate.

Don't ask how I forgot all about the phone and nine-one-one, or how I managed to spot Sasuke's name and call for _his _help when all the while Gaara had been online as well. My actions at that time were based on instincts rather than consciousness, driven by fear; and instincts told me to call on Sasuke.

"Then we're even." Sasuke dismissed, and I didn't argue; the subject was overly awkward to continue anyway.

I shuddered, suddenly chilled as an unexpected wind breezed past me. It reminded me of elderly myths where the coldness was due to the presence of the nonliving. Not that there were any ghosts in my house- or so I believed- but in the darkness of the night and the limited amount of luminosity from the moon, it might as well have been so, since the atmosphere about the house screamed _HAUNTED _anyway.

"Hey, Sasuke?" I called out, feeling giddy of my current surroundings. I tried reminding myself that it was my own home in the dark and was the same as it was every morning. It was rather hard to convince myself though, when darkness had me surrounded.

The lights in the kitchen had been turned on at some time when Sasuke had been searching through it, but the living room, where I was, was left unlit. Only little amount of light from the other room reached it, giving just enough to create even more shadows. I shivered as the cold whipped around me once more.

"Can you turn on the lights?"

Sasuke looked at me in a strange manner, which soon turned into irritation- I suppose he was still brooding, and his temper still short, about having to be dragged all the way here for absolutely nothing (in his opinion). "You've got legs, haven't you? Use them. What's stopping you?"

"The fact that my limbs are temporarily paralyzed." I said, half-lying. It was the truth, although it wasn't the reason I didn't get up. I glanced at the light switch on the other side of the room, across the several feet of darkness I'd have to cross to get there.

Sasuke caught me looking. "Yeah? Well, I don't think so. I think it's 'cause you're still scared shitless." Regardless of the criticism, he pushed himself up and walked toward the switch, turning it on. In less than a second, the whole room broke out in brightness. I shut my eyes close at the sudden illumination.

I opened them after a while as my eyes adjusted–shuddering in the process as another cold breeze enveloped my body- and found Sasuke frowning at me. He then redirected his attention to a spot not far away to his right.

The curtains over it waved somewhat violently, compelled by the strong winds from outside; it hadn't done that earlier, nor were there winds either.

Suddenly, Sasuke was reaching for the curtain- on which, I realized, I'd imagined the man-like outline out of the shadows. With the lights now turned on, those shadows had faded away, the outline disappearing along with it. Though that relieved me, wariness still clung onto my nerves, and I didn't want Sasuke shoving that curtain open in any way, in the fear of what waited behind it.

Sasuke's hand gripped the fabric, though before I could voice out a protest and stop him, he heaved them aside.

There was nothing, or no one.

Just the sight of a casement window left slightly open. That was where the wind must've been coming from.

Sasuke's frowned deepened at what he saw. "I thought I told you to close all the windows?" He asked, slightly demanding.

"I did." I said defensively, my eyes unable to lift from the opened window which I couldn't remember opening. "But I was in a hurry…"

The moment Sasuke had logged off earlier on that night, in fact only half an hour ago, I'd practically scurried my way about the house in attempt to do everything he said to do. Turn of the lights…close windows… I had done just that in a swift, clumsy manner. I didn't even want to head down anyway, because, if any part of this was true, then the Rogue would've been just outside my front door.

But I followed Sasuke's instructions anyway; I needed to follow _something_, needed someone to lead me, because at that moment I was unable to lead myself. I made a point of avoiding the door as much as possible, keeping a safe distance away in case someone came barging in uninvited, while I shut all windows and lights.

Within ten seconds, I was stumbling up the stairs to my safer zone- though nowhere really felt safe at that point; I had gone to the study, transformed into my Dad's at-home office, locked the door and hid in a closet filled with stacks of files and binders rather than clothes.

Due to my panic and hurriedness, I must've missed that particular windowsill and left it open –albeit I was sure I'd gone and shut every single one; though I must have missed one, given that there was no other rational explanation.

Sasuke sighed in frustration and closed the window- in the process stopping the cold wind from breaking in, and for that I was slightly thankful. Turning to face me, he leaned against the wall—a habit of his I supposed, you know, the leaning on stuff. As if he couldn't just sit down on the couch that was two feet away from him.

"Close your windows next time, okay?" I nodded at his demand.

And following that, silence.

He made no move to leave. He didn't even appear to have any intention of leaving; but he did seemingly intended to lean against the wall for hours. Yet there was no objection on my side. I needed the company; no matter that it was Sasuke's. I just needed _something _to distract me from tonight's events- which still had me shivering whenever I recalled the Rogue's messages… or how close he had been to entering my house, if he was even here at all, if anything he ever said was true.

I was beginning to get the notion that he never really was; here, I mean, the Rogue. Maybe all that he said had been a coincidence, in a very specific, correct, freaky way.

Staring at Sasuke proved to be an effective distraction. He was looking to his side, refusing to meet my eye, with his arms crossed on his chest defiantly. A look of petulance was evident on his face, as if he didn't want to be here in the first place, like he was forcefully dragged here- which was ironic, since even though he _was _forced to be here, and that every part of him probably did _not _what to be here, he didn't give the impression of leaving anytime soon.

Which was okay. I didn't want him to leave.

Merely the sight of him was interesting. Anyone would've told me to just take a picture, because it would last longer. But a two dimensional picture wouldn't have done justice to how he looked in real-life.

There he was, looking all tough and tall and strong; although slouching, he still looked tall- which made him look strong, making him look tough. It all was chained together. I found it hard to believe that this guy –who I've held personal dislike towards for years- had been kind of like my hero for the night… coming to the rescue… just in time…quickly…here, to me…

I paused, as all of a sudden questions stormed about my brain.

How did he get here so fast?

How did he know where I lived?

And how did he…

"Sasuke?" I said cautiously, peering up through narrowed, doubt-filled eyes. He looked at me. "How did you get inside the house?" I whispered.

"Oh, that." Sasuke shrugged, "You left your door unlocked."

_Déjà-vu._

Scratch my second thoughts; the Rogue had been here after all.

* * *

_**Nara Shikamaru**_

"Where the hell have _you _been?" the brunette couldn't help but blurt out at the sight of Uchiha.

In his daily life, almost everything passed as uninteresting to Shikamaru; the classes, sessions, counseling, having to deal with dim-witted, twelve-year-old-minded housemates, stupid googly-eyed-and-stupid girls, the ever-so-useless-and-exceedingly-easy homework… Shikamaru's life consisted of the most wearisome things, things that he made a point of tuning out each day.

There were only a few things that caught his attention –one of them being this certain attractive blonde (and, no, it's _not _Naruto if anyone was wondering)- yet even then, it would only be a short matter of time before he got bored and fell asleep.

However, the sight of Uchiha sneaking into the room and climbing through the window as quietly as possible, dripping wet from head to toe at half past three in the morning, instantly hooked on Shikamaru's curiosity, and there was no chance he'd let this occurrence pass by without knowing the story behind it. It was not everyday _the _Uchiha Sasuke broke the rigorous rules of this house, and the itch to know what had driven him to do so formed within the Shikamaru.

There was no need for his genius assessment to tell that Sasuke had been out without permission, moreover past the curfew.

Uchiha jumped in surprise, swirling around to find his brunette roommate still awake, and was watching him amusedly with a raised eyebrow. "Be quiet!" he whispered harshly.

"You are so busted." Shikamaru remarked wittily in a normal volume, which seemed to be amplified thrice in the dead silence of the night. He was enjoying this.

Ignoring him, the Uchiha trudged over to his side of the room and began taking out dry clothes from his drawers.

"Do you know what'll happen if Hatake finds out you've been sneaking out?" Shikamaru called out just as Sasuke had reached the bathroom.

Glaring at him, the Uchiha hissed threateningly, "Well, he's not gonna find out, 'cause no one's telling him." And closed the door- not slam, as it would've awoken the others.

Shikamaru waited until Sasuke went out of the washroom. "So where'd you go?" he asked conversationally.

"None of your damn business." Sasuke snapped, and no idiot would've missed the fact that the Uchiha was in a bad, bad mood. Well, except perhaps Naruto. Or Kiba. He was just as thick-headed.

"Yeah. Until I go rat you out on Hatake first thing in the morning. That'd be quite troublesome."

Sasuke glared. "What do you want?"

"Just curious as to where you've been."

Sasuke was silent, as if contemplating whether or not to tell him. Just when Shikamaru thought Sasuke would not answer though, he did.

"Sakura's."

Shikamaru blinked, surprised at Uchiha's sudden bluntness; though more surprised at this unexpected response. So many reasons why he could've been at the pink chick's house, yet Shikamaru didn't know which one to assume.

"She…needed some help." Sasuke explained hesitantly. "And… I guess you can say I gave her a hand."

"Oh. I see." Shikamaru said, although he didn't really. What exactly had Uchiha done in Sakura's house that lasted _all night_?

As if sensing his thoughts, Sasuke called out, "Nara."

Uchiha gave him a pointed look.

"I didn't sleep with her, if _that's_ what you're wondering, you sick bastard."

"That wasn't what I was thinking."

"Sure." Uchiha said, the syllable hinting clearly that he didn't believe him. As he climbed onto his bed, he called out, "And Nara?"

"What?"

"This never happened. Got it?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

_

* * *

You guys are **insane!** Over 40 reviews! Holy crap! I should go on hiatuses more often. LOL Nah. Not writing for a month was complete torment for me. Words are my oxygen. But I'll be happy to tell you that it paid off. I just came back from school for report-card pick-ups, like 5 minutes ago. And I got straight A's! Yayeah._

_Anyway, achievement's worth the struggles, n'est-ce pas? It felt so **good **to get rid of all my worksheets & notes. I just threw out an 8-inch stack of papers today, seriously. Mr. Recycling Bin was dancing with joy._

_Thanks a million for all who reviewed & all who understood my hiatus—each one helped me through the mind-boggling hurricane of studying for my final exams. If only there was another way to express my gratitude than a simple "thank you"._

**_Read, Review and (a million) Thank You!_**

_Enjoying the summer vacay,  
"Keelah"_


	15. Paranoia

**Instant Message  
****By "Keelah"**

_

* * *

_

Eyes. On me.

_There were a number of them, although only one stood out among the rest._

_This pair was watchful… steady… unwavering…observing…_

* * *

_**Chapter FOURTEEN  
**__**Paranoia**_

I looked out the window of my first period classroom distractedly, delighted at the sight of the sun beaming its rays upon every little surface that was exposed in the area –it's easy to appreciate the small things when you'd just recently experienced the longest night of your life. I don't think I've ever been as happy as I have this morning to see light peaking through the track blinds of my room when I woke up.

Surprisingly, I was able to survive the night before, alive and intact.

Sasuke hadn't left right away, after I told him to wait at least until the storm outside had ceased a little. Truthfully though, I just didn't want to be alone. That wait took a long time, filled with awkward silences and unconscious staring competitions. No one had tried to start up a conversation. We simply remained in the lounge watching TV sitcoms that neither of us was really paying attention to, surprisingly sitting on one couch but unsurprisingly positioned in opposite ends, the farthest distance from each other as the seat would allow; with a bowl of popcorn sitting solitarily in between.

It was perhaps the dullest and most awkward movie night of my life.

Sasuke hung about for another hour or so, and had waited until the storm subsided before leaving. The rain however, continued to fall in sprinkles, and I had a feeling it'd go on overnight. With a final check-up in and around the house to ensure me, Sasuke departed into the downpour with only a jacket that wasn't even water-proof, and that had already been drenched in the first place. As he disappeared into the early morning rainfall, I closed the door and locked it shut securely.

A part of me felt safe after that last circulation to make sure I _was _really alone in the abode; whereas another part of me felt doubtful. Eventually, as the long night began to weigh on my eyelids, I gave up and simply chose to feel safe –because the option took lesser effort- and surrendered to the fatigue that clung and drew down my consciousness.

I'd fallen asleep the moment my head hit the pillows, already at half-past-three in the morning; I'd set aside my thoughts on Sasuke for later on and allowed sleep to take me away.

Now, presently, as I was fully awake and coherent, yet bored and distracted from today's chemistry lesson, thoughts on Sasuke came tumbling back into my mind.

How he'd gotten inside wasn't much of a mystery anymore. I'd left my door unlocked; he told me so, and in the process confirming the Rogue's last assertion. What _was _a little mystifying was how he knew where I lived, when I was certain I have never told him that certain information. In addition, the last move my family have had was four years ago, just after Sasuke had been expelled from school. I never saw him again after that, until now of course, therefore leaving no way he could've found out where I moved next.

And _how _did he arrive so fast? He came within ten minutes; on foot, I might add. Did that mean he lived only five minutes away? I didn't think so. Sasuke, from what I currently knew of him, lived in a group home, and there were definitely no group homes within the estate. He couldn't have come from any of the houses here, for the reason that…well, he didn't seem the type to spend time in such areas, given that around the clock he looked like a kid whose official hang out were the streets and back alleys.

The first and second periods passed by gradually and uneventfully—a good thing, I admitted, since I was completely distracted throughout the morning, trying to think of plausible ways that Sasuke could've gotten to my house so fast. _Flying_ was cancelled out; and so was driving –if Sasuke was under probation like Kakashi had mentioned, his license _should_ be suspended. Not that he'd be able to afford a car anyway.

Coming up blank with no logical reason, I decided to question him about it later –that being the easiest, most obvious method to get answers.

Thus, as the bell rang for lunch, I rushed out the door and towards my locker, stuffing my bag and books inside. If I was going to search the entire Academy, squeezing through the halls along with its two-thousand student population, I'd like to do so empty-handed, without a drag. In less than a minute I was off to look for Sasuke.

Though he wasn't in the fields playing games or training dogs, as per his customary location, because of his tall stature, the distinctively noticeable hairstyle, and his attention-grabbing all-black attire, Sasuke hadn't been hard to spot at all. I found him standing by a row of lockers across the hall from the counselors' office, in the company of three of his fellow-delinquent friends, not talking, and not really listening to the others' animated chatting.

Don't ask how I got the courage to walk straight to them without faltering for even a second, or one hesitant step back, but I did. Maybe it was the need I felt for answers or the puzzlement in my brain; either way, I was heading towards Sasuke's direction, progressively closing in, and the intimidating aspect of it hadn't yet occurred to me.

With Sasuke turned away, it was his friends that noticed me first. I recognized each of them without much difficulty: the white-eyed brunette was obviously Hinata's cousin, the other brunette was most likely to be Shikamaru (the guy Ino was currently head-over-heels for), and the last one- Kiba, talking and was at the moment being ignored, who I'd already met once.

Upon spotting me, the voluble boy reacted with exaggeration as his canine eyes widened and his lips parted to gawk. Needless to say, the strange expression rendered the other two to turn towards my direction.

At the sight of me, I saw a spark of recognition in all of their faces; clearly, they already knew who I was, while I barely knew them. It was awkward, strange and creepy bundled altogether in one odd sentiment on my end.

Snapping out of his trance-like gawking state, Kiba punched Sasuke in the arm and nodded over to my direction.

"Guess who's coming." Shikamaru muttered under his breath, and though it was barely a whisper, the low warning immediately had Sasuke whirling around. He frowned—not a bad frown though; more like an amused what-are-you-doing?-sort-of frown.

Suddenly, a glitch on my rope of confidence sputtered and became known, and soon I was faltering; but, realistically, who wouldn't upon heading towards four fairly, somewhat and slightly attractive guys who watched your every move as you approached, their gazes wide with curiosity like a magnifying glass? It was pretty intimidating.

But jeez, bearing in mind that this was Sasuke, Kiba –someone who I've met once before and who owned a really cute dog, my friend's cousin, and my best friend's new-found crush, they actually weren't _total_ strangers.

Nevertheless, as Fight or Flight kicked in and my instincts perfunctorily chose _Flight, _I found myself walking right by, staring ahead without a word, as if I hadn't only a second ago been headed towards their spot. A few moments passed as behind me, I felt no movement, no muttering words or stifled laughter. Before the triumphant sensation spread throughout my body however, a strong grip landed on my shoulder, twirling me back around.

I spun along with the action, surrendering to the fact that I was not going to get away with a gesture as weird as walking up them and chickening out the last second. Sasuke gazed down on me, eyes painted with smears of amusement.

"Haruno." Oh. We were back on the last name basis now, huh? Well, that was fine with me. I didn't even know why we began to call each other like we were friends in the first place.

"Oh, hey!" I greeted: my pathetic attempt to act surprised. No one was fooled, obviously, in the view of the fact that I had stared right at them when I approached, only swerving sharply to the right at the very last moment.

Sasuke, still with his hand firmly gripping my shoulders, as though I'd run away if he let go (something I'd probably do), glanced at his friends and shot a meaningful look that read "_Scram." _Repeatedly in big, bold letters.

They got the silent message. Shikamaru rolled his eyes. Neji snickered. Kiba winked at me—awkward, really; and with their strange responses, the three scurried away under the Uchiha's gaze, which had only this minute turned into a glare as he caught his friends' reactions.

Once they were gone, Sasuke shifted back to me. "Hey."

"Hi." I greeted again. I'm so pathetic. I could tell he thought so too by the way he stared at me.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. You?" He gave me look, one that clearly said socializing hadn't been his point, one that also clearly said he had no intentions of telling me what was up. I was the one who came to him, despite my stupid plan to retreat.

"Okay, so something's been bothering me…" with that he turned and began walking away. Before I could call out "Jerk", he turned his head back, his eyes impatient.

Quickly, I understood the signal and scuttled my way nest to him. We were strolling next alongside each other for the second time now, though _where_ we were currently headed towards, I had no idea.

"How did you know where I lived?" I asked, unable to prevent the reproachful tone that came along with the question.

"Gaara." He said straightforwardly.

"Gaara?"

"You met him sometime last week, didn't you? Heard he walked you home."

"He did." I said, befuddled at the censorious tone that coated his last statement, making sound almost like an accusation. "He's… nice." I added, trigging an eye-roll on Sasuke's end. "How did you get there so fast?" I went on, "I mean, you probably live pretty far. And then you had to look for my house. So how come you came so fast? It hadn't even been twenty minutes since you logged off the computer."

"Why are you complaining?" he shot back, manifestly goaded by my cross-examination. "Just be glad I got there quick enough to keep you from going insane. I'd say to keep you from getting hurt, but it turns out the 'someone's-breaking-in' story was all crap."

"It wasn't crap." I retorted, "And I'm not complaining. Just…wondering."

"Wondering?" He repeated, "You sure you're only wondering?"

"What else would it be?" Doubt. Suspicious. Mistrust. And the list went on and on…

"I think you're paranoid." He pointed out.

"I am not! And you're avoiding the question!"

"I'm not avoiding the question. I was…around."

"_Around_?" I reiterate in disbelief, "And what, you just _happened _to be carrying a laptop in your pocket?"

"No!" he snapped, halting to turn and glare at me. "I was at an internet café a few blocks from your house. They have this thing called a wireless internet. Ever heard of it? I was there for a project, because Kankuro was hogging up the computer at home. Would you like to know I ordered too?"

"Never mind." I muttered, unconsciously taking a step away from the enraged Uchiha. "Forget it.."

Well, _I _wasn't forgetting anything. You couldn't blame be for naturally finding it suspicious how Sasuke hadn't arrived so fast. Maybe he'd been much nearer than the coffee shop he claimed he was at last night; could it be that the reason he'd gotten to my house so fast was because he was already _there_ in the first place…?

I fought the ugly suspicions initiating in my head.

"You thought that _Rogue_ guy was going to break in, didn't you?" His abrupt question surprised me, and the startled look evidently visible on my face gave him the confirmation he needed. I stared at him questioningly, and he shrugged in response. "I just figured."

"You just figured?" I repeated accusingly. Figured how? I knew he knew about a certain stranger who wouldn't leave me alone on the internet… but how did he come up with the conclusion that it was the same person I "thought" was going to break inside the house?

Unless, of course, he already knew… or he was—

I shook my head.

Sasuke was right. I really _was _paranoid. And it's getting to my head.

* * *

I headed home right away after school, walking with Ino until a fork in the trail separated us in two different routes. The garage had been empty when I arrived at the house, which only meant that my parents were out, but within the city; they wouldn't have taken the car if their destination wasn't within driving distance.

Reaching my room, I quickly changed into something more comfortable, grabbed a quick snack from the kitchen, and back to my room, where the first thing I'd done was turn on my LCD- being that I had no homework for the day.

The very first thing that popped up on my desktop was:

**Rogue: So how did the rest of your evening go last night?**

I blinked.

**lilpinkchiq: **_**what?**_

**Rogue: hard to believe that the Uchiha actually came to the rescue. **

_What...?_

**Rogue: I'd like to let you know that the he had been wrong though, when he told you no one was around. He just hadn't seen me.**

**Rogue: I saw you, sitting there in the couch of your living room area, alone…**

Involuntarily, my eyes widened, as the only commonsensical solution formed subconsciously in the back of my mind, clearly yet distantly: he had been…

**Rogue: I was watching**

**Rogue: I watched you then… and I'm watching you **_**right now**_

I was frozen, and suddenly my lungs immobilized along with the rest of my body –that included my common senses as well. I couldn't breathe. It was as though one inhalation seemed to take up so much more energy now than it did before, like the air was all of a sudden ten times denser.

**Rogue: I can see you, Sakura**

I shook my head, not knowing whether he could see it or not –though I strongly hoped he couldn't.

**Rogue: Would you like some proof?**

I bit my lip and questioned, did I really? Before I could decide for myself, the Rogue beat me to it, much to my dismay.

**Rogue: you're wearing grey sweatpants and a light blue shirt. Your hair's tied up in a ponytail. You got your iPod beside you on the table, on its speakers probably being charged. Things are clattered over your desk. Your eyes are glued onto this screen.**

**Rogue: And you're shaking.**

I glanced down to get a look at my current attire, from my home-worn slacks, to my loosely-fitting shirt, and the messy tress I had quickly and carelessly tied my hair up into just a few minutes earlier that afternoon. Subsequently, my gaze hovered over the study table, where my very handy music device sat charging through the _iMotion_ speakers, amongst my other girl-stuff scattered arbitrarily. I didn't need the visual proof of my reflection to corroborate if I was shaking. I was already aware of that one.

Only one thought entered my mind as my quick once over ended.

_Oh. My. God._

**Rogue: Am I right?**

_He's watching me._

**lilpinkchiq: no.**

**Rogue: please don't make me go out there just to prove I really am here**

**Rogue: I'm sure you wouldn't want that**

_He's here._

Instinctively, my eyes flicked towards the window only a few feet away to my right, glowing brightly as the vertical blinds were all the way amassed to one side of the sill. This, accordingly, left the window –though closed and locked- entirely lucid, causing everything inside the room (such as myself) to be visible from the outside. Anyone walking by would be able to look in clearly without the slightest difficulty.

I ran instinctively towards the window and closed the blinds in one swift motion, dragging them all the way across to cover casement. Just as I reached up to pull the curtains though, a chime had me turning instantly towards the computer.

**Rogue: There's no use in closing the blinds**

As a reflex action compelled by dread, I guided the pointer to the red-squared box at the top right hand corner of the window and clicked it. In less than a second, the conversation box disappeared. Unfortunately, life wasn't that simple, and troubles couldn't be rid of that easily.

My relief was cut short when the window reappeared as quickly as it withdrew, popping once again on my screen like a consistent shadow.

**Rogue: No use in closing the window either**

I froze. The blinds were closed. How did he-?

It was no lucky guess, of course; I'd be an idiot to think that.

Everything he was saying now was no bluff. It was the truth. Somehow, in some way, he knew exactly what I was doing. He wasn't lying. He was here.

**lilpinkchiq: go away.**

**Rogue: I'm not going anywhere. You might as well deal with it.**

**lilpinkchiq: How did you know where I lived?**

**Rogue: I got your address from your student file**

Student file?

**Rogue: for a rich school, HLA's firewall sucks. You can't believe how easy it was to hack into their system. I went through a back site.**

**Rogue: It proved to be a very good source of useful information.**

**lilpinkchiq: so you noted down my _address_?**

I gasped at his following reply, unable to believe that such a thing as this was truly happening. A random stranger? Reading through my student files? I never even thought that was possible, unless you had some advance, high technology and a genius brain. Suddenly, I couldn't help but blame the Academy for having such useless security software. How could they let a random person hack through their computers so easily?

Because of that, a handful of information about me was now obtained by a complete stranger…

…whose knowledge's boundary involving my life was currently infinite and unknown.

**Rogue: oh I have a lot more than your stupid address.**

* * *

"Hey Sa-!" Alarmed, I dropped my pen, my fingers unconsciously letting go of the ballpoint. Standing beside the lab table I was situated behind was Ino, who stared at me with a quirked eyebrow and a hand on her hip. "What's wrong with _you_?" she asked as though I grew another head out of the blue.

"You…startled me." I reasoned out meekly, reaching down to grab the writing implement that was lazed on the floor.

"_Good morning-!"_ Although I already knew who had spoken, (as it couldn't have been anyone else but the teacher) my head snapped up as reflexes kicked in, only to hear a muted _thud _as I collided with the desk. I ducked again instinctively to get as far away from the desk as possible, whilst moaning and massaging the back of my now aching skull.

As I busied myself tending the resultant injuries of my clumsiness (which, this morning, appeared to have increased perhaps thrice or more) the barefaced sound of laughter erupted in the background, along with occasional "Ouch!" and "Stupid" and "That's gotta hurt," remarks here and there from my fellow classmates.

To my rescue the teacher soon hushed the crowd and it wasn't long before their attentions were forced to divert upon the topics of animal biology, and today's dissection: Rats. Ino's focus remained on me though, with a look that clearly showed her attempt not to burst out laughing. "Well, _someone's _certainly jumpy this morning."

"I had a lot of coffee."

"You don't drink coffee, idiot." She rebutted, "What's up?"

"Late night." I tried again. Upfront, our teacher had pulled out a box of rats and was about to begin their distribution. This was enough to shut her up.

Bio elapsed slowly… or was it the opposite? I really had no way of knowing, seeing as paying attention wasn't something I seemed capable of doing today. The teacher's lecturing words only blurred together in a big, incomprehensible… blur of words whenever I tried focusing. I already gave up trying to do just that halfway through the class.

Instead of keeping my mind on the dead rodent sliced open before me, I passed time by looking out the window that was adjacent to my seat. I wasn't daydreaming though, or zoned out like I was whenever my eyes wandered off out the sheet of glass. My reason this time was utterly different; I wasn't distant, nor in a daze like the custom, but instead I was wide awake, my senses heightened on alert, vigilantly watchful –though _what _I was watching out for, I wasn't quite sure.

I found myself scanning every little corner of the school's student parking lot (the only view of the window), looking for every possible hiding place in the surrounding area. I saw to it that no one lurked about in unusual places, or, if there was, made sure they weren't secretly stealing glances at my direction. If an unknown person at least casted a glance at me, the sirens in my head went off every time, and the thought that they might be the Rogue arose in my mind. I was _that _paranoid.

I was unusually jumpy this morning, that already been said by Ino, but it wasn't as though the cautiousness was within my control. I seemed to be reacting to every little thing I heard or saw at the moment; for example, the irritating spins and tricks of Ino's pen around and around her finger, how the student beside us repetitively, inquisitively poked at the rat's guts with tweezers; or how I heard every stroke of marker on the whiteboard as the teacher wrote down notes.

In general, whether the class itself went by slowly or quickly, Bio had been torture; and by the looks of things, I could already say the same thing about how the rest of the day would turn out.

My eyes darted everywhere, left and right, front and back, up and down, as I made my way through the hallways after class. I jumped to conclusions every time I'd caught someone looking at me –which was actually pretty often, considering that my odd behavior only attracted other people's attentions.

That, of course, had only made things worse.

Unconsciously, I increased my pace. The more I tried getting out of the crowded halls, the more attention I got; the more attention I got, the more I tried getting out- it was a pointless, unbreakable cycle.

Then, I felt it.

Eyes. On me.

There were a number of them, although only one stood out among the rest. This pair was watchful… steady… unwavering…observing, unlike the usual curious glances I got from the rest of the student body as I squeezed my way through the pack.

I shuddered as the feeling only grew stronger, without any way of telling who the gaze belonged to. There were too many people. I kept on walking, hoping to elude that lingering sentiment, but to no avail it remained. I couldn't even tell from which direction it came from. I just knew in my guts that someone was staring- no, _watching _me; it was just one of those things that you know.

"Sakura!" I jumped, whirling my head around to see Ino and Sai running as they tried catching up to me. "Where are you going?" Ino shrieked just as she had steadied her breathing back to normal. My attention, though, was focused more on the latter individual that settled himself beside Ino, his amused eyes on me.

I was slightly surprised at the sight of them walking together. I looked at him questioningly, searching his eyes for any explanation whatsoever (maybe he liked her? I mean, he _had _called Ino beautiful, and me a hag. That jerk.) but I received nothing back but a blank, non-beneficial smile.

"Hey." I greeted, turning my attention back towards Ino. "Uh, I was heading to my locker."

"You passed by your locker two hallways and a floor ago. What is up with you?" I opened my mouth to reply, but as if knowing the lie I was about to blurt out, Ino interrupted, "I know something's bothering you. I'm not stupid. What's up Sakura? Tell me, girl. Spill."

Sai stared at me with a curious look. "I think someone might be… _following_ me." I said to her, although she didn't gasp like I expected her to. Instead, she raised an eyebrow as if I was a five-year-old who had just told her she secretly had super-powers. Annoyed, I added, "For real."

"How do you know?"

"I don't. I can… feel it."

"You don't even know?"

"If I did, I would've broken his nose by now." Sai smirked, "Then, he'd be in the hospital and he wouldn't be following me. No, I don't know who he is. I just _know_." With that said, my eyes subconsciously darted across the hall, looking about for anything off.

In the corner of my vision, I spotted a dark, distant shadow of a person. Before I could focus on it, Ino spoke again. "It could just be nerves, you know." she said.

"No…" I shook my head, wondering if it really _was _only nerves. I looked for the figure I'd seen through the mass of students that blocked my view. "I'm totally freaked, Ino."

"Man, I would be too." She commented unhelpfully, "Good luck with that. Maybe it's just a secret admirer."

"Yeah." I muttered distractedly, still searching, "Maybe." Though I knew it wasn't.

"Well, gotta get to class." Ino piped cheerfully, "See yah!"

I waved and realized Sai hadn't left. I looked up at him. "It's probably no big." He said, shrugging. "See yah, hag."

With that, Sai walked off, leaving me in the midst of the student horde. It was the second after he'd wholly disappeared into the crowd that I realized he hadn't gone the same direction Ino had headed to.

And there it was again. That feeling of a gaze boring right into the back of my head.

In a swift movement, I turned around, alarmed, as my eyes moved in all directions, frantically searching for anyone who looked suspicious enough. Eventually my gaze landed upon the spot where I'd earlier noticed a blurred outline of a person. It was a good distance away, lengthwise on the other side of the hallway where a figure of mystique stood leaning against the corner, its head turned unmistakably at my direction.

Squinting, I was able to see a bit more clearly. It was still a vague image, because of the expanse between us, but enough to identify who the person was.

Uchiha Sasuke was staring right at me.

**_

* * *

_**

Unknown

She looked around, trying to find him, but her attempts were clearly useless –as she had not even the slightest idea who she was looking for.

If she did, it would still be useless anyway, since he liked to consider himself a pro in hiding, while she, in turn, was only a little girl trying to seek.

She'd find no one, of course.

He was hidden in the last places of anyone's assumptions.

Camouflaged amongst the hundred other bodies that walked this hallway.

Unnoticed within the depths of the crowd of scurrying students.

Concealed beneath the shadows that loomed on every isolated corner.

Behind the plain sight of an ordinary being.

A predator in waiting.

She turned around and spotted a pair of eyes that were staring back at her, watching her every move.

The look on her face. The alarm and fright in her eyes. The suspicions and accusations that crossed her mind.

The way she scurried off like that.

Priceless.

* * *

_A/n: Yes, peepz, I _am _aware of the little fact that, if you haven't already noticed, this story is so last year. The pairing, and... other stuff that I can't say yet since it'll give away the story. lol. Anyway, sorry about that. The reason the plot's so ancient history is because this idea had occured to me in 2006, and after a long of complications and hiatuses, it's only now that I'm actually getting to write it all down._

_I don't think I'll be able to change the story to make it match with the current Naruto plotline, since that would mean I'd have to rewrite the whole thing, and I really don't wanna do that for the fourth time. I wanna get this fic over with so I can start a new, fresh, up-to-date one. So, bare with me, kay? Thanks for all your support. Without you guys, this story would still be only an idea, and my brain would explode from overload. Wouldn't that be a pleasant picture._

**_Read, Review and Thank You!_**

_Wholeheartedly,  
Keelah._

_(See?! That was a fast update, right? I'll be away at camp next week, so the following chapter will be up on July17, Friday.)_


	16. The Surveillant

**

* * *

**

Instant Message

**By "Keelah"**

* * *

"_It's supposed to be a game! You told me it was a game!"_

"_It is." The voice affirmed, "A very… __existent__ game."_

* * *

_**Chapter FIFTEEN  
**__**The Surveillant**_

I ran, lasting as I long as I could until stitches developed in the side of my stomach. My aching lungs threatened to explode at the under-pressure of the heavy panting that I couldn't seem to slow down. Eventually, I gave in to the urge to stop, satisfying my apprehension instead by a fast-walk.

All the while, puzzling questions swarmed in and out my head.

Why had Sasuke been staring at me?

I seriously doubt it was my incredibly good looks and appeal (insert sarcasm here) that had drawn his attention. Sasuke had never been one to be enthralled by any sort of charm anyway –at least, not of the female sex. Although I _do _see him hanging out with guys for most of the time (no idea what _that's _about).

I wondered, though, how long he had been watching me. And _why_? There had been nothing friendly, nor positive, about his expression earlier. He was more of frowning, looking deep in thought –at least, from what I saw with the far distance that was between us, not to mention the dozen other students that passed by and blocked our view.

Or maybe he _hadn't _been looking at _me_. Maybe he was looking at… _her_, I thought as I spotted some pretty brunette randomly walking past; yeah, maybe he had been looking at someone else. How did I ever come up with the idea that Sasuke was staring at _me? _Well, my thoughts were perhaps driven by extreme paranoia, but still, I shouldn't have skipped to conclusions.

It was silly. Sasuke wasn't the stalker-type. And, if anything, _I_ was more likely to stalk _him_ –sensible speaking.

So that had to be it. He was looking at someone else—someone who just happened to be at the same spot in the hallway where I had been standing, at the exact same time.

It was the only rational reason I could come up with.

So why couldn't I escape the gut feeling that I was _still_ under surveillance?

* * *

The moment the dismissal bell rang throughout the Academy by the end of the day, I intended on heading straight home.

The thought of first passing by my locker didn't occur in my clouded state of mind, and presently assignments were the least of my concerns. In any case, considering that I had not paid heed to even one of today's lessons, I doubt I'd know which classes I had homework for in any case. I'd been too occupied spotting tails, or if a gaze lingered a second too long than a stranger's usual glance.

Needless to say, I was obsessed. But I had every reason to be considering this _Rogue _had described my clothes yesterday –in details too exact to be a lucky guess. I'd be a fool to think it was coincidental.

As well, he had been watching us the other night. All throughout the evening, while both Sasuke and I thought we were alone and I had felt safe, we were actually being watched upon by a gaze unbeknownst to us that existed then. We were being observed; _I _was observed. As though a hidden camera was planted somewhere I weren't aware of, I was viewed and scrutinized secretly by a out-of-sight surveillant.

I shuddered as I dragged Ino along the corridors and out of the school building. As always, it was a refreshment to have the cool mid-autumn air blow across my face after having spent seven hours in crowd-filled, body-odour-scented rooms of the school. Normally, the Academy smelled rather alright; if not, neutral. However in the afternoon, when all the puberty-undergoing freshmen and sophomores have had their gym blocks, sweating and stinking like crazy afterwards, the school instantaneously turned into a stink-bomb.

Despite that, Ino still struggled to go back inside, for the sole reason that _the_ guys were here today."Hey _Sakura!_" I skidded to a stop, whipping around to find a grinning Kiba making his way toward us. Shortly behind him was a certain brunette that caused a half-gasp, half-choke to emit from Ino. I rolled my eyes. She'd go for guys who were ideally hot, but once her eyes set on someone, all the confidence would evaporate like a droplet of water on a fifty-degree summer afternoon. Ironically, she'd prefer to admire from afar –which was, needless to say,_ so _unlike her.

"Uh," I stammered, my feet itching to leave the school grounds as quickly as possible. "Hey?"

"So what'd you do with Sasuke the other night?" His grin was so wide that it stretched across his face and beyond. Shikamaru stood off to the side, his eyes wandering in an uninterested manner—I could tell he was listening though.

Kiba's jesting inquiry had Ino turning to me in perplexity, completely forgetting about her unspoken crush that stood directly in front of her. "Sasuke? The other night? Is he _kidding_?"

"Oh, _not _kidding." Kiba bantered like a child in a playground, his eyes twinkling at me with enjoyment. "He looked really worried when he ran out the house. He thought everyone was asleep but I was wide awake." He puffed out his chest, as if by outsmarting Sasuke he'd won a very significant match. I had a feeling that didn't happen very often, judging by how much he ravished his most-likely seldom victory.

Then, all thoughts in my brain froze in place.

"'Ran out the house'?" I repeated, the pieces falling into its corresponding positions. "He wasn't at some internet café thing?"

"At _where_?" Kiba blurted, baffled by the words that were coming out of my mouth. "Nah, he was at home; stayed up all night. I'm pretty sure the dude I saw sitting in front of the computer wasn't a clone. He was doing some project. Which I haven't even started on, by the way. Ah, crap."

Paying absolutely no attention to the senseless jabber, I questioned, "And Kankuro?"—who had supposedly been taking over the internet that fateful night?

"He was…uh, snoring. What's _he_ got anything to do with this?"

Words were drained out of my throat as I let this new piece of information sink in. Kiba continued to tease while Ino demanded for all the details, the dirt, but their dialogue was muted to my ears.

The only sound I could hear was the voice in my head, repeating over and over:

_Sasuke's a liar._

* * *

I arrived home several minutes afterwards –what with Ino's delay, insisting for gossip as she preferred to run her mouth rather than her limbs—and, much to my discomfort, found the garage unoccupied. My parents weren't home yet. I was alone in the house again. I cringed at the thought.

Ino had bid goodbye before I even realized it, and soon I was left standing by myself before the front door. It creaked as I opened it, and the sound echoed through the halls of the empty and silent abode. I looked around, scanning the void from floor to its high ceilings, from wall to wall, and suddenly the place I lived in no longer seemed safe—as though it had been replaced by a structure that resembled closely to a haunted mansion. Stiff and wary, I walked in.

After switching on every single light in the ground floor (a habit I've developed whenever I was on my own) I headed straight for my room, locking the door shut behind me. Automatically, I closed the windows and shut all the blinds and curtains. It was all for precautions.

Out of the quiet blue, a chime rang out from my opened computer and on the screen sat a blinking window.

**Rogue: I'm currently reading over your student file.**

I frowned.

**Rogue: did you know you're getting the highest in Bio? 98 percent. Very impressive.**

**lilpinkchiq: I can't believe you actually hacked into the school documents, reading **_**my **_**file. **

**Rogue: what's not to believe? Besides, how do you think I found out how Kin looked like?**

I paused to think.

**lilpinkchiq: what are you talking about?**

**Rogue: oh do you still not believe me? When I say **_**I **_**was the one who had killed Kin? **

**Rogue: how do you think I knew she walked to school? How do you think I knew which way she was coming from? Where she lived? I got these all from **_**her **_**file.**

I bit my lip. It was possible…

**Rogue: think about it, Sakura. Everything I'd been saying for the past few days was true –and you know it.**

_And I did, unfortunately._

**Rogue: Would I start lying know?**

_No_ was the answer to that question; he wouldn't –and that was the fact that shook me to the bone as realization dawned to me.

_He killed her. He killed her. He killed her. _

**Rogue: Exactly.**

_I'm talking to a murderer._

**Rogue: Do you believe me now pinky?**

My eyes flicked on the phone lying to the right of the desk. In an instant, I seized the object and hastily pushed the buttons _9…1…1…_

Hovering just above the _Talk_ button, the telephone's speakers emit ear-piercing trills that halted my finger from carrying out the call. Hesitantly, I answered.

"Hello?"

"_Put down the phone."_

I stiffened.

The seething voice was harsh and raspy, too much so that I couldn't tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman's. Chills were sent down my spine, running back and forth as it spread a sense of terror throughout the rest of my body.

I needed not to look at the caller ID, not ask for the caller's name, because, in the back of my mind, I was already well-aware of who was calling. I already knew who he was.

"_Put. The Phone. Down." _The voice whispered sharply, clearly unsatisfied by my apparent unresponsiveness.

I was shaking all over, and I felt as though I was going to collapse soon due to fear. I gripped the phone tighter to my ear, afraid I might drop it, as the hand that held it was numb, quivering violently.

He was talking to me. Just on the other line. He was right there. Tell me, what does a normal person do when a killer is on the phone?

Gathering up all the courage I had at the moment (which was not a lot, taking into account all the valor that had been drained the moment I heard the disturbing voice), I opened my mouth to speak.

"_Put the stupid phone down."_

At first I only gaped, trying to utter words of refusal. Eventually though, I whispered, in a voice barely audible and drenched with replicated firmness, "No."

"_Don't be a bad girl. Put the phone down."_

"You killed her. You murdered someone…" I rambled, though it was mostly to me as I attempted to convince myself rather than towards him.

"_You told me to."_

"It's supposed to be a _game!" _I pointed out desperately, "You told me it was a _game_!"

"_It is." _The voice affirmed, _"A very… existent game."_

"I never wanted you to kill Kin." I whispered desperately, My legs threatening to cave underneath me. "I never wanted her dead."

"_Yes. You did. Deep inside, you did."_

A pregnant pause situated in the conversation as I contemplated. After a while, I said, "I'm calling the police." –which was the stupidest thing I could've said. Way to give away the plan.

I heard a snicker on the other line. _"You wouldn't."_ Came a hissing voice.

"I will." I persisted, "I will right now."

Another snicker, _"You still don't get it yet, do you?" _Suddenly, his tone changed. It was no longer raspy. No longer whispering. It sounded firmer, more threatening. Much more controlling. A man's voice.

"_Listen here, pinky. In every game, there is a player –one who controls how the game is going to go. We're playing _my_ game right now. Meaning, you follow me and my rules. I guess I forgot to mention that to you in the beginning, when I asked you to play with me. My bad._

"_Don't panic though. There's only one rule. Rule number one: shut the hell up. You tell no one about our little game. No one. You tell the cops, they die. Tell your friends, they die. Tell your parents? They _die_. Anyone you spill the beans to will die. And don't you say I wouldn't dare, because I would. I already killed one person. I wouldn't mind killing a dozen more_."

I blinked back the tears that were forming in my eyes. This was real. I could tell by the tone and solidness in his voice. He wasn't joking around.

_This isn't happening, _I thought to myself. This only happened in movies. In books. Not in real life. Not to a hard-working girl who achieved straight A's, never missed a curfew, never smoked or drank, never done anything to deserve this.

So why was this happening?

Weak in the knees, I leaned against the wall for support, slowly slidding down to the ground. My head shook again and again, repeating the words _"This isn't happening, this isn't happening," _continually in my mind –as if the action would somehow undo the situation I'd gotten myself into. It didn't. A few seconds later, I was still in under the same circumstances.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered in between heavy pants.

"_There's something… you know… that you really shouldn't." _The sly tone was back. He was forbidding now, not so much hostile.

"What do you mean?"

"That little incident."

"What little incident?"

"You know." I did. The old man who was attacked in the alley. But somehow I refused to believe that that was connected with this.

Nevertheless, I replied, "What happened in that alley?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You will be quiet about it. That man's nothing now. It's over." He was talking in riddles.

"Why don't you want anyone to know?" I asked, "You said he was no one."

"This is not about what happened. This is about what you saw. What you saw that no one should've seen in the first place."

What did I see? "What are you talking about?"

"Do you understand me? You tell nothing to anyone. And don't do anything stupid. I'll know if you break the rule. I'll see every single thing you do.

"I'll be watching, pinky. All the time."

_Click. _

The conversation ended before I could say anything else. To my left, a sound erupted softly from the computer that signalized someone had logged off. I turned to see it was the Rogue.

This, though, did not bring any kind of relief. I knew that even supposing he was offline, even though he had already hung up the phone on the other end…

…he was only temporarily gone.

He would come back.

He would be watching. He always was.

From where, I had no idea, and that was the reason for my biggest disadvantage: because he could see me, and I not him. There were surveillance cameras everywhere, following me, eyeing me… except they weren't exactly cameras.

They were real human eyes.

It was clear to me now, what my place was in this little game of his –what he wanted and intended me to be.

To be able to play any sort of a board game, logically, you'll need two main things: the player and the representing token, also known as: a game piece –the object the player controls to be able to carry through and play the game.

The player, in the process, enjoys the game, if it goes well to his liking. But why wouldn't it when the token, a nonliving thing, did not have the ability to object? The player was in control. The game piece only follows.

In this little game that I was involuntarily playing in, _he_ was the player…

…And _I_ was his game piece.

* * *

I had woken up the next morning to the aroma of newly-cooked bacon overwhelming my room –the scent most likely seeping through the narrow slit at the bottom of my bedroom door from the kitchen.

I did my morning rituals –which consisted of: shower, blow-dry, brush teeth, fix hair, etcetera- and had changed quickly (which explained why I had wound up going to school in jeans and a simple grey tee); unable to withhold my curiosity any longer, I dashed out my room and down the stairs.

The first thing I'd spotted was the luscious-looking dish laid out neatly on the dining table; bacon, hash browns, scrambled eggs, and pancakes toped with syrup I knew well was maple, small strawberries slices and cream –complete with glass of juice lying beside the plate. Just looking at it had my mouth watering. I haven't had that kind of breakfast prepared for me in the morning for _weeks._ The sight of it was like a model picture ripped out of an exclusive restaurant's exclusive menu.

"Good morning, honey." I snapped my head up –the first time I really looked at anything else besides the food- and was greeted by my mom's loving smile, which I haven't seen in days.

"Mom! You're home!" I exclaimed, hugging my mother.

"We came back at around four in the morning. Your dad's still sleeping in the bedroom." How the rest of my morning turned out since then was fairly easy to tell. Great –seeing as my parents were home finally. I ate my breakfast with much enthusiasm until the first negative thought of the day crossed my mind.

Was that in fact a good thing? To have my parents home, when I currently had a stalker possibly lurking right about now around the house, waiting to see if I was going to break "the rule"? It was beneficial for my case; at least I was no longer home alone, at least for now; but definitely not for them. They were better off in business trips, safer at least and farther from the Rogue- who I wouldn't be able to get rid of in a long time, it seemed.

My bliss had only lasted until I bid goodbye to my mom, dying away a few minutes after I left the warmth of home as I walked unaided along the near-isolated sidewalks of the residential area.

Suddenly, a weird feeling developed in my guts –nothing positive- and on impulse, I turned to look behind me –half-expecting to see someone there. There wasn't.

Anxious, I walked faster.

I reached the school gates, exhausted from the walk which had along the way developed into a run; then into a sprint.

…which was the reason I was sweating unconditionally in a heated art room at the present moment. This added to the fact that I was always drawn from reality and lost within my thoughts, it was easy to say that I was the oddest one in the class right then.

It was as if I could think of nothing else except Rogue.

Had he meant all that he said? Would he actually go as far as murder, only to keep me _quiet?_ And what for? Hadn't he said that old man meant nothing to him? To "them"?

He said it wasn't what had happened that I had to shut up about. It was what I saw. I wondered, though, what exactly had I seen? I did not even know myself.

The bell rung without me noticing it, and had only gotten the hint when I realized half the class had gone. Distractedly, I grabbed my sketchbook and went out into the hallways.

As I made my way in a daze through the bustling students as they hurried to their next class, I was deep in thought about the alley scene, trying my hardest to replay what I'd seen in my head, trying to figure out what was there that was so important to this group that the Rogue was apparently part of.

I didn't know how long I had wandered in the halls, or how far exactly –seeing as I was nowhere near my initial destination, which had been my locker. All that was aware of really was the sudden force that hit me as I turned around a corner and the F-bomb in my ear, jolting me back down to earth, before looking around and realizing that my stuff had scattered all across the floor.

"Sakura!" I looked up to see who had spoken. Sasuke. On his face, he wore an evident what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you look that clearly was aimed at me. "What are you, blind or something?"

"Sorry." I mumbled and bent down to pick up my stuff, which happened to be every piece of my drawings spread out onto the floor and currently being trampled on. How convenient.

Sasuke sighed heavily, muttering something about my being reckless that didn't sound so complimentary, and surprised me by kneeling down as well to collect the sheets of paper in a faster speed.

We stood up at the same time, and I busied myself in shoving all my work into a binder as Sasuke handed them to me. I felt him staring; by his solid stance and how feet planted unmoving from where it stood, I knew he was not going to leave. He simple remained in the same spot, observing.

My common sense must've been damaged collision, because without warning I heard myself say, "You lied to me." He blinked. "You were home." I alleged, irritated by his clueless response, "You weren't at some coffee shop. You were home."

"Alright…" He responded reluctantly. "Fine, I was home. _So_?"

"So how did you get to me so fast?"

"Why does that even matter?" Truthfully, I didn't know. I was doubtful of him when I became aware of the fact that he'd gotten to me rather quickly, and for a moment I suspected that maybe it's because he was already at my house in the first place…already watching… But now that Kiba had confirmed he _wasn't, _I had no reason to be so mistrustful.

But suspicion wasn't what was generating my queries; before, it was. Now, it was plain and simple curiosity. "Just answer me."

"I ran."

It was my turn to blink. "What?"

"I ran. 'Cause you were so panicked. What did you want me to do, go for a stroll?"

"…And you couldn't just have told me that in the first place?"

"We have a curfew," He explained in aggravation, "At home. I figured if you knew I'd snuck out of the house, you'd go ahead and rat me out again." He said, disgusted; it didn't take a scientist or a highly sought after professor to figure out that his repugnance had been dedicated to me.

I sighed, shaking off the antipathy that had returned between us, and turned my attention back on my bag, an unsystematic chaos of hurriedly crammed possessions. I stuffed my belongings further inside, randomly inserting the slightly-crumpled drawings into my binder. Consequently, a loose-leaf paper fell out. Sasuke, finally tearing his gaze away, knelt down and picked it up from the ground.

His actions then surprised me.

He didn't hand it back, as how I had expected him to. Instead, he stared at the paper, a frown forming in his pretty face and a crease on his pimple-free forehead.

I, too, frowned but in curiosity; the piece of paper was turned away from me, therefore I could see nothing more than the white blankness of its backside. I couldn't exactly see which of my work he was looking at.

"What?" I asked.

Sasuke, in response, shook his head; finally taking his gaze off the sheet of paper, he handed it back to me, "This…"

I then saw what it was.

It was the snake-like drawing I'd doodled in class just a few days ago.

"You drew it?

"Yeah." I said, a strange feeling forming inside of me and more so the longer I stared at the picture.

Before, at the first time I saw it, I assumed it was only dirt –just oddly shaped. I see now that it was too perfectly formed like the legless reptile to only be dirt. It was a tattoo.

"_This is not about what happened. This is about what you saw. What you saw that no one should've seen in the first place."_

This was it; what he had been talking about. The tattoo. Something that symbolized them. Their group or whatever. It was vital because it was a way to identify them, say, to the cops.

So… why is Sasuke--?

"What's it to you?" I asked curiously.

"It just…" His voice faded, pondering. "It looks familiar."

I froze.

"Familiar?"

"Yeah. Well, I don't know." He said, "I think I've seen it before."

Oh. Well, _that's _certainly strange.

* * *

Tell me something.

What does a tattoo of a creepy old man I saw hiding beneath the shadows of an alley where I had witnessed another older man who happens to be a drug-dealer bleed to death nearly a month ago have anything, anything at all, to do with Sasuke, a little delinquent boy I met years ago?

Yeah, I came up with nothing too.

But that does not cross out the fact that Sasuke have apparently seen this symbol, or so he thought; and it looked familiar to him.

Why? Or how?

**lilpinkchiq: it's the symbol.**

I messaged the Rogue once I had logged on. It was one of the few times where I was to start up the conversation.

**Rogue: congratulations.**

**lilpinkchiq: it's an emblem or something.**

**lilpinkchiq: I don't know what it means, but it's significant. My knowing about it endangers you. **

**Rogue: I suppose you can say it like that.**

**lilpinkchiq: So you admit it then. I have something against you. Looks like you're not so powerful after all.**

**Rogue: you have a stupid drawing of a snake against me that the police might not consider looking at**

**Rogue: I, on the other hand, have a lot against you. Friends…family…**

**Rogue: …your life.**

I shut my eyes, fighting the shivers that clamped onto my whole entity.

**Rogue: so this is how it goes. You follow me, and everyone lives. You **_**don't **_**follow me, and someone dies. Quite logical. I'm assuming someone with a 4.0 GPA would understand the concept of disobedience and consequences. **

I gulped.

He knew so much of me, _so_ much, yet he was such a complete stranger; someone who I've never encountered –though I wasn't planning to anytime in the future.

**Rogue: oh, and one more thing.**

Great. What else?

**Rogue: I suggest you don't show Uchiha that little sketch of yours anymore**

I frowned, bewildered. The fact that he had been watching (unsurprisingly) didn't hit me as much as the fact that he didn't want Sasuke seeing the symbol.

Then, as though reading my mind, he stated:

**Rogue: Yeah, he knows a little something-something. It's somewhere deep in his memories. Do me a favor. Don't dig it out. Otherwise…I'll have to kill him too.**

**Rogue: Poor. Little. Sasuke.**

**lilpinkchiq: You know Sasuke?**

**Rogue: oh I know a **_**lot **_**about Sasuke. More than you do.**

I frowned.

**Rogue: Including **_**everything**_** he hides from you.**

* * *

_**Unknown**_

**lilpinkchiq: how do you know him?**

Ah. She was bound to ask that sooner or later.

**lilpinkchiq: how do you know Sasuke? How do you what happened earlier? Yeah, you were watching, but how did you know where I was at the Academy?**

And now was the time to take the pleasure of telling her the truth.

**Rogue: Have you still not figured it out?**

He saw her frown in puzzlement.

**lilpinkchiq: Figure what out?**

He smirked as she fidgeted impatiently and anxiously.

**Rogue: well…**

…

**Rogue: …I suppose you can kind call us… **_**schoolmates**_**.**

And he watched, highly pleased, as she gasped in shock and horror, under his surveillance.

_

* * *

_

A/n: Hey-yah peepz. I'll be at camp this coming week again. If manage not to collapse on my bed in deep sleep the moment I get home, then maybe I can update next Friday. If not, then update will be the week after that -it's not that long of a wait.

_Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go write a cover letter for my non-existent summer job. I'm the only one I know who's unemployed. *Sigh*_

_But hey, maybe your awesome, multiple reviews will motivate me. Lol._

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Immeasurably grateful for all the previous reviews,  
__Keelah._

_Neinnnnn: Wish you could've logged on, so I can reply to you more privately and not have everyone read this. Lol. Anyway, yeah I wish it would be him too. But three years ago, when the idea of this story came to me, I didn't really know about him yet. Now it's too late to change anything else to make it match more with the current Naruto plot. This story's pretty much set in stone, and I really don't want to rewrite for the fourth time. (Cause this is my third try, believe it or not.) Hope you're not too disappointed. I'm glad you liked the story. lotsa love. Keep reading!_


	17. Shadows

****

Instant Message  
**By "Keelah"**

* * *

_When does this game end? I thought._

_Then, as if an answer to my mental question, he said:_

_Don't you see, Sakura?_

_The game __doesn't__ end…_

* * *

_**Chapter SIXTEEN  
**__**Shadows**_

I sauntered, head bowed, along the hallways of the Science wing. It was Monday once again, a new week beginning. But nothing has changed. Behind me, I heard footsteps that constantly followed.

I walked faster, though the action proved futile as the sound of footfalls was still present. I couldn't elude from it. It was our break between classes after all, and the whole student body would be bustling through the corridors, trying to get to their next class, right about now. Of course there were footsteps all over the place; it was only normal.

That, though, did not ease the apprehension within me. Fretful, I walked even faster.

And the sound of footfalls persisted.

I could feel it, hear it, that distinct sound that I was certain wasn't an ordinary student's, though I could not pinpoint who seeing that a hundred others were walking behind me at the very moment, without any intention except to arrive to their Block B classes on time.

I looked around nervously.

Somewhere, among this crowd, was the person I was looking for- the one who, most likely, had his eyes on me right now. The Rogue said he went to the same school I did. And though that much had already terminated the hundred thousand other possibilities of who he might be all around the world, the Hidden Leaves Academy –while a private school- still held more than two-thousand pupils.

It would be next to impossible to find him. Not that I wanted to, really. The only reason I wanted to know who he was, was for me to know who I'd be running from.

Still, a thousand high-school students. It could be anyone. Anyone, I thought as I looked around the hallway, of these people could be _him._

Perhaps it was that brawny senior with the North Face jacket always smoking just around the corner of the back lot. Or maybe it was the skater with the blue-dyed fohawk and a chained belt. It might even be that gangly, obviously puberty-undergoing freshman with the horrible BO that could still not go around campus without a school map.

Or maybe it was that girl, or that guy, or him, or her! I thought as my eyes darted everywhere on its own, suspecting every single person that I passed by.

As a result, I walked a little faster, my once-saunter breaking into a run.

I was, to say the least, utterly paranoid in school the following day.

"You're looking worse and worse everyday." Ino pointed out bluntly as I sat beside her in class, uncaring whether anyone heard her.

I shrugged, "Yeah, I just…it's nothing." I had to take precautions. He might actually be within this room right now, able to hear everything I say.

"What, this about your new secret admirer?"

"I think he's more than that now."

"Can you _not _be so paranoid?"

I glared at her, insulted by both her candid affront and the fact that she hadn't taken me seriously. "You don't believe me." I pointed out as a statement, not a question.

"Uh, no."

I sighed heavily and focused my attention to the front of the class.

I couldn't blame Ino. I wouldn't even believe myself, if I hadn't already enough proof; the messages, the phone call, the student files, the fact that he knew what I wore and where I was and what I'd been doing…the fact that he can _see _me: definitely enough proof, if not too much.

And yet Ino was still not persuaded.

If my best friend didn't even believe me, who else would?

* * *

He was everywhere; the Rogue, I mean.

He was just there, following me, like a gut feeling I couldn't escape from or get rid of. I felt his gaze, constant and unwavering upon me, throughout the whole morning. And even now as I walked home. The sidewalk was empty –yet that's not necessarily saying I was alone; someone, I knew, was here as well, only in hiding.

I didn't even realize I'd been running until I reached the front door of my house, panting as I fished out my keys with shaking, clumsy hands and unlocked the door, locking it shut the moment I was in.

Calling out a quick greeting to my parents (and after receiving another quick greeting back) I rushed to my room and shut the door, shutting all the windows and blinds. I knew this was being overly-cautious, but you couldn't be too safe; hesitantly, I checked my bathroom too, and then my closet –which big enough for an average-sized man or two to hide in.

Doubtfully, I turned to my computer- which was, at the moment, shut down, though it would only take one press of a button to turn it on, automatically connecting to the internet and then logging on to the windows messenger.

But I wasn't going to do that.

I wasn't going online. I wasn't going to give him the chance to overpower me once more.

Averting my attention from the computer that sat harmlessly (at least for now) on my desk, I slumped on my bed and decided to do the only thing that could take my mind of the Rogue: homework.

Reluctantly, I pulled my assignments out of my bag and began to do them one by one –and for the first time, deciding to take my time for it.

Every once in a while, I would look up and steal glances at the PC, half-expecting it to ring and signalize a new message; though, seeing the black, inactive screen, I'd then remember it was off and consequently focus back on my schoolwork.

It was already around a quarter or so after ten by the time I'd done all my assignments (checked over twice). Now was the time when I would usually, in ordinary situations, go over to the computer and chat with my friends and check my E-mail and such. The present moment, though, was not exactly considered ordinary. So instead, I sat still on my bed, staring at the computer, contemplating whether or not to follow through my usual custom.

Before I could thoroughly decide though, the ringing of the phone shrilled in the air, slicing through my train of thoughts, and effectively managing to pull my gaze away from the PC.

Grudgingly, I stood up and headed over towards where the telephone sat still ringing and vibrating.

"Hello?" I answered and waited, though no reply came. "Anyone there?"

A few seconds passed wordlessly. Just when I was about to hung up, thinking that I was never going to get a reply, a low, slimy voice hissed through the phone line:

"_Open your computer."_

I stiffened, all of a sudden unable to speak.

"_I know you've been avoiding that computer. Open it._"

I opened my mouth to retort, but the voice on the phone beat me to it and barked commandingly, _"Now."_

And the line went dead.

My actions disconnected from my brain, I helplessly turned on the computer and waited for it to load –still shocked by the unexpected call.

Had he been watching? Was he watching right now? Or had that only been a lucky guess?

A new message right away appeared on the desktop.

**Rogue: good girl.**

**lilpinkchiq: who **_**are **_**you?**

**Rogue: who am I?**

**Rogue: actually, you know who I am, Sakura**

I stared, skeptical and suspicious, at the computer.

**lilpinkchiq: I do?**

**Rogue: yes, pinky. **

**Rogue: you do.**

Suddenly, I felt unnerved, alarm quickly spreading through each of my veins and all over my body as I took in the truth of what he just said.

I knew him. I thought back to all my friends at school –there were too many, too many people I talked to every day, too many new seatmates or new students that I met every month. It might even be just someone that I had said "hi" to, once in the halls. Still, the thought of coming across the Rogue without even realizing it… I shuddered. How on earth would I gain advantage in a situation like this?

**lilpinkchiq: go away. **

**Rogue: we still have our little game to continue. Q&A**

**lilpinkchiq: I've already taken part in it. Game over.**

**Rogue: that was only part one**

**Rogue: we still have Round 2**

**Rogue: after that, Round 3**

**Rogue: and then Round 4…**

**Rogue: Round 5…**

**Rogue: Round 6…**

_When does this game end?_

Then, as if an answer to my mental question, he said:

**Rogue: don't you see, Sakura?**

**The game **_**doesn't **_**end…**

* * *

Fearfully, and instinctively, my hand grabbed the mouse and signed out.

I stood up sharply, my chair toppling over as a result, and backed away from the computer. Suddenly, I had the urge to be anywhere but here; because wherever a computer was found, it was just another way for the Rogue to connect with me. Just another step closer to him.

Unthinkingly, I began to shuffle around the room, making sure all the windows were locked, all the blinds closed and the curtains draped shut, before I threw myself to the bed. Reaching out for the light switch (which was built in, in the right area just above the headboard of my bed for my convenience –but of course a remote would've been better), I turned it off.

Instantly, the room turned pitch black; it took a few moments before my eyes adjusted to the darkness and the light emitting from the opened computer reached them, but soon enough I was able to see –it was for that reason that I left the computer on, as a nightlight.

Then, cravenly, I tucked my head within the blankets, and shut my eyes as I tried to forget the Rogue and everything about him, or at least enough to get me sleeping peacefully through the night. Restively, I struggled to sleep.

_A voice, the same one from the phone, croaky and cynical, whispered, and it echoed, over and over, within the depths of my mind. The malevolence was there, unmistakably, dripping from each word._

_"The game doesn't end. The game doesn't end. The game doesn't end..."_

* * *

I didn't know when, and for how long, but somehow, I managed to fall asleep, despite the typhoon of thoughts in my head and the fact that I couldn't even remain in the same position for five minutes.

It was none but a light sleep though, and before even realizing I'd dozed off, consciousness slowly seeped through my mind and body, and I found myself awoken, amidst darkness with a flashing bright screensaver as the only source of light, with faint noises that were, as I listened longer, starting to get bothersome.

It was indistinct with my mind still half-asleep, and I couldn't figure out what exactly the sounds were and where they came from. Bit by bit, as my perception grew sharper the more I grew awake, I realized what they were –or at least what they sounded like.

Scratching noises –but not exactly. They weren't sharp. They were… muffled, for a lack of better word my not-fully-coherent mind could think of.

They reminded me of… not exactly the shrill nail-scraping noise, but more like… a finger, for instance, rubbed hardly against… let's say, glass or a whiteboard- _that _was the sound.

That, though, did not quench the puzzlement that was still in my mind. Looking around, blindly, I tried to decipher where the sounds came from. Shutting my eyes, I concentrated, focusing.

The rest of the background noises I tuned out in a matter of seconds, and all that was left was the scratchy-but-not-quite noises –to my right. Ever-so-close to my right side.

Instantly, I snapped my eyes open and turned towards my right hand side, towards whatever object might be making that noises.

I spotted nothing; at least, nothing but the black and white abstract drapes, and beneath that, unseen though sure enough, a window.

Then, something clicked in my brain, _the window._

Suddenly, at that same moment, the noises stopped. I frowned as the discontinuation only further ignited the fire that was my curiosity.

Guardedly, I sat up, got off the bed, and crept –as silently as I could- towards where the sounds once were. It wasn't far, just about three steps away from the bed, actually; and soon, I was standing right before the sill.

It was only then that I realized my heart was pounding hardly against my chest, as if threatening to break out –though I didn't know why. What was there to be scared of? I thought to myself, what could be worse thing waiting on the other side of this cloth?

A cat stuck on a tree? A branch grazing against the window? Or could it be like one in those cliché urban legends (1), where the noises were _not_ animal-caused, but were actually by a girl's nails clawing repeatedly against the door in desperate attempt to open it, trying to escape her attacker, who had raped and killed her -leaving smudges of crimson handprints all over the door where the girl was once trying to call for help- which never came because the girl on the other side of the door thought it had only been a cat.

I shuddered. _Get a hold of yourself, _I thought, _no one's getting killed right outside your window. You're at the second floor, for heaven's sake. _

Mustering up all the courage I had (though my heart still pounded like mad) I reached out, slowly, towards the window, grasping the curtain with shaking fingers. My hand remained still for a few moments, contemplating, postponing, until finally, before I could change my mind, hauled the drapery open.

…and instantly, my heart stopped, or at least it felt that way.

I was frozen, wanting to scream though my mouth wouldn't release the sound, as I stared unblinkingly at the sight before me.

No cat. No tree branch.

Not even a girl getting murdered.

Just a window; and upon it, written in a large, disturbing font, on the moistness of the windowpane, it read:

_**Do you want to play a game?**_

Quickly, before the words were permanently imprinted on my mind, I turned away. A thought -or more like a realization- formed in the back of my head.

He was just here. Right here, right now. (Or at least, a few seconds ago)

Instantly, I panicked.

Without much thought, I grabbed a jacket -the first one my hand came in contact with once I reached into the closet; because for once, apparel was beyond my cares. All I wanted at the moment was to get out, because my room, overfilled with fear that leaked from my body, suddenly felt cramped and confined- and dashed out the door of my room.

Within a few seconds, I had flown down the stairs, worn a ragged pair of runners carelessly and was rushing through the front door of the house. Before long, I was out onto the dark, secluded sidewalks of the compound.

Initially, I ran, wanting to be far away from the madman as I could, seeing as he was somewhere near the house. Once I was a good distance away (a block or two) I slowed down and mindlessly began walking, clueless to where I was currently headed, though I didn't really mind.

I had chosen a random direction when I left the house -left or right, I hadn't really been paying attention to my thoughts –ironically enough. And right away, I could tell I'd have a hard time finding my way back sooner or later.

A walk was what I considered an ideal mind-clearer; and that was exactly what I needed: to clear my mind. Lately, my thoughts have been so over-clouded, unclear, with so much blurred together that I couldn't even understand how I felt. Scared? Confused? Mystified? Anxious? Frightened?

All those seemed to me like the same sentiment now, all so similarly alike. What was the difference? I didn't know, yet I should, seeing that I've familiarized myself with those feelings for quite some time now. I was restless, in a dark night, feeling scared, confused, mystified, anxious, and frightened as I walked on these streets alone.

Or was I?

It seemed so. The moon was radiant, however murky as the clouds hovered over it, blocking the nighttime's only source of light, and shadows were just about everywhere, except in the small surrounding patches of muted light just under each lamppost. But in the dimness of the night, there was really no certain way of telling: whether I was indeed on my own, or someone else was present, simply concealed within the shadows of the night, unseen with my eyes.

Or maybe no one was around.

Maybe he wasn't actually here, but situated in a distance, satisfying himself by merely watching from afar. Maybe someone was watching me. Someone, right now.

A pair of eyes following as I sauntered, step-by-step, along this path.

Unconsciously, I shivered; though it being because of sheer paranoia, or the cold, chilling breeze that'd swift past me out of the blue, I didn't know. It was cold (an understatement, of course); freezing would be more specific. A certain type of frostiness now hung in the atmosphere, of fall gradually turning into winter's nightly air, as the snowy weather waited just around the corner, only a few days away.

I walked on, caring neither about how far nor how long. Eventually, my mind cleared up –though not entirely; just enough to realize that I was now in foreign surroundings, and that I had not the slightest idea of where I was. Though I was pretty sure I was no longer within the residential estate I lived in –judging from the smaller-sized houses and the less appeal in the vicinity.

I began walked faster, trying to retrace my steps back to where I started, which I found rather hard to do in an unfamiliar place. I couldn't be that far away from home, and seeing as I only got here (wherever here was) on foot, I should probably be able to get back as well. The only problem was my bearings –unfortunately, the great sense of direction my father had (and still did) was not passed genetically onto me. And it was for that reason that I currently stood in the middle of a deserted sidewalk, with absolutely no idea of how to get home and no one to help me. I was cold and desperate.

Not to mention the fact that everything seemed to be growing darker now, though it was already pitch black in the first place; I supposed it was the fact that I was in a location alien to me, and had also contrasted to my comfort zone, that made everything more sinister than they appeared.

Especially the man lingering just up by the corner I was presently heading towards.

At the sight of him, though it was only his shadow I saw, the figure was very much masculine, my mind instantly raced –thinking of the worst possibilities that could occur. A part of me wanted to do a sharp one-eighty, but on the other hand, that would've only been an invitation for a chase, showing him that that I was afraid –which was the exact opposite of what I _should _do.

Standing straight, I kept my head up and continued on walking –however, on the inside, my mind and body screamed to run. Of course, it didn't help when the man, still vague beneath the gloom, pushed himself upright from the telephone post he had been leaning on, and started for my direction.

At that moment, as he was walking towards me and me towards him –our proximity slowly closing in- my heart thudded violently and unstoppably, so loud that I wondered if the man could hear it as well.

I continued on sauntering.

Just a few more steps before we were face to face. I hoped in my mind that things would go ideally –which meant just walking right pass each other; but that, of course, was not going to happen. He had gotten up at the exact same moment I arrived, and before then, he had been lingering around purposefully, doing nothing…

_Waiting._

Silent alarms went off in my head, and at that point I wanted to do nothing but turn and run away, scream for help –there were houses all around us, it was a residential place. There had to be someone bound to hear me (at least I hoped). The instinct to run away, and curiosity (with the man hooded and faceless, looking all mysterious as he had his head down, bangs shadowing over his unseen eyes) battled inside me.

_Run. _A voice in my head said, _Run now._

Ten metres away.

He was getting closer, and I prepared myself for the worse, mentally and physically.

Five metres…

Mechanically, my stronger hand (my right hand) balled into a fist, hardening itself in preparation for a punch.

Three metres… Two…

One.

He looked up that exact moment, and at the sight of him, my arm instantly halted in mid-air.

His hood had fallen off, and the light, though still weak, was finally able to illuminate his face.

"Sakura?"

I gasped in relief. "Gaara!"

* * *

_**Unknown**_

She ran, like the terrified little cat that she was, thinking it'd do any good… thinking that she'd actually be able to escape from him by merely running away.

Look at her now, he thought spitefully, feeling all safe and relieved.

Can't she see?

She wasn't safe. She shouldn't be relieved. She hadn't escaped him.

Because he was like her ghost, her own personal specter.

Wherever she goes, he follows…

Watching… trailing… _shadowing…_

_

* * *

_

(1) Firelight Horrors, Chapter 13. Guest Appearance! lol

_BIG problem. My computer always crashes, right? When it did last winter, my back-up wasn't wholly updated. Chapter 19 was done, but less than half of it was saved. I went on writing, thinking I'd eventually get the hard drive. I never did; so part of Ch19 is missing. Plus, my outlines are gone too, so basically, I don't know what the heck happened in that chapter._

_I'm dead. I'm still hoping for that hard drive—sadly, it's been seven months of waiting. I don't think I should hold out for that. Rewriting here I come. T_T_

_Thanks for all the reviews and support. I appreciate it. And as for the suspicions and guesses, you guys are actually getting close. A certain few are right on—of course I never actually tell them that they're right. Hehehehhe._

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Loving the sun,  
__Keelah._


	18. Round Two

**Instant Message  
****By "Keelah"**

* * *

_I let my eyes wander around the room, scanning for…any furniture, any accessory, and any dirt that wasn't in the way I had left it…but there was none. __Everything was in perfect order; untouched._

_Or so it seemed._

_**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter SEVENTEEN  
**__**Round Two**_

"Oh my god!" I cried out, as the sense of relief and safety washed over every inch of my body in an overwhelming manner. "I thought you were…" I stuttered, "I…I was about to hit you!"

"Yeah, I can tell." Gaara said, sending a playfully fearful glance at my still-clenched fists. "Good thing you didn't."

Embarrassed, I relaxed my hand. "Sorry."

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, incredulous at seeing me… wherever "here" happened to be.

"Taking a walk." was my cool and nonchalant response.

"At midnight?" I nodded hesitantly, "Alone?" I nodded again. Then, as if sensing my loss at direction, he inquired, "You haven't the slightest clue where you are, have you?"

I shook my head.

In response to this, Gaara raised a hand to his temples and massaged them lightly with the tips of two fingers. "What were you thinking?"

"Huh?" I blurted unintelligently.

"You can get hurt you know."

"I can handle myself." I defended. _Right. _A sarcastic voice drawled in my mind. "I happen to be very… brave."

He rolled his eyes and called to attention: "You're not brave, you're stupid." Why, thank you for the kind compliment. "Your parents let you out at a time like this?"

"They don't actually _know_." I sheepishly explained.

A heavy sigh passed his lips. "You think you can defend yourself if someone just grabbed you and took you away? What are you gonna do then? What if they hurt you?"

"Well, you're here, aren't you?" I teased. "So everything's okay. I'm safe."

"Are you certain of that?" He murmured silently. I studied him, more than slightly confused. He wore a frown and was staring distantly at the space above my left shoulder, a contemplative glaze over his shady pools of viridian.

"Gaara?"

His following question, though barely even a whisper, was pronounced seriously, and the gravity of it had my eyebrows scrunching into a frown as well–though divergently with concern.

"What makes you think you're safe with me?"

The lines creasing my forehead only deepened, "Gaara?" I called out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of whatever spell he had slipped under. "You okay?"

Gaara shook his head, the elastic band of his trance snapping him back to reality, and then gazed at me. The dark shade of his jade orbs met my lighter ones. The grimness of the moment lingered around us for a few long seconds, before shattering as a grin broke across the red-head's handsome visage.

"Sorry. I was worried."

"About me?" I asked surprised, trying hard to suppress my exaggerated jollity.

"No." He answered mordantly, "About a girl I know who was stupid enough to take a walk on her own in the middle of the night in a place she's not familiar with."

A grin of my own formed across my face. "Well, enlighten me, why don't you? Where am I?"

"Woodlands Avenue." Gaara, upon seeing my puzzlement and my lack of recognition at the street name, as absolutely nothing clicked in my brain, sighed. "About eleven blocks from where you live." Oh. "How long have you been walking?"

"I…" I uttered, "I don't know."

"You're a little dimwitted for someone supposedly smart."

"How do you know I'm smart?" I challenged.

"You look the type." He revealed. Then, shaking his head (Was I honestly _that _frustrating? I've already lost count of the number of times he'd shaken his head and sighed), he grabbed my arm and said, "C'mon." With a gentle maneuver of his hands on my back, he whirled me around and started for the direction opposite what I earlier took. "Let's get you home."

"You're walking me home?"

"Yes." He replied amusedly, "Round two."

I bit my lip, hiding the ridiculous smile that fought to disclose itself in a humiliating display. Bubbly and without another word, I bounced (not literally) beside him as we ambled our way along the quiet path. Though the night was still dark as it was before, the streets still empty and the shadows ever so indistinguishable, my environs didn't feel so ominous now that I had a strong-looking, six-foot, six-pack owner (of course, this was purely an assumption, and I _hadn't_ seen for myself –not that I didn't want to) for a companion, the sort who could hold his own in a fight –a feat I found promisingly consoling.

"So," Gaara spoke, breaking into my train of thoughts of which he was the centered subject. "Did you hear about that girl who died? Rin, or something?"

"Kin." I corrected him, "She goes… or, went, to HLA."

"Heard she died at the moment of impact, all her bones crushed. I mean, can you imagine? An eighteen wheeler whacking an eighteen year old? That's insane."

_She died at the moment of impact, all her bones crushed. _I flinched at his words. "I don't really wanna talk about it…"

"I'm sorry." He said, sensing my discomfort, "Were you close?"

"No, not at all." I blurted out, "I hated her." And the words were out before I could stop them.

Gaara cocked an eyebrow, surprised at my outburst. "And that's the worst part about it, huh?" He told me, "You don't know whether to feel good or bad."

I nodded. Weird how he knew exactly how I felt. He wasn't entirely accurate however, and that was only the second worst part. The worst of it, sitting on the number one throne, was knowing who had pushed her in front of the truck –plus the fact that everyone considered it to be an accident, when all the while I was with the unspoken truth.

As silence stretched out between us, something occurred in my head, something that had particularly turned on the switch of curiosity. "Hey, Gaara?" I asked, breaking the quietness.

"Hmm?"

"Why are _you_ out in the middle of the night?"

"I'm walking home a stray little girl who was stupid enough to wander around on her own—"

"Okay!" I laughed, shoving him by the shoulder. For someone like Gaara however, the punch was probably only equivalent to a tap. "I get it. It was foolish, and dangerous. But you know, standing around at midnight in the dark isn't very far form that category." I chided.

"That's different."

"How?"

"Well, first of all, I can handle myself just fine. Secondly," Gaara gave me a once-over. "You're barely even five feet tall."

I scoffed. _Not true. _I was a little more than a hundred and sixty one centimeters actually, which would be five feet and four inches if rounded _up. _"I'm taller than that." I reproached, though I was all but noticed.

He looked down on me –as if to make a point- upon my manifestly shorter and smaller figure. "…Of course. And anyway, unlike you, I know where I am. I happen to live around there."

"Really?" I thought you lived in a—?"

"Group home, yeah. The house was just across the street from where I ran into you." With this new information, I found myself wishing I'd had bothered to look around earlier on.

"What were you doing outside?"

"I was in need of fresh air."

"At midnight?"

"I couldn't sleep." Gaara explained with a strange twinkle in his eye as he peered at me. "Is that a crime? I'm sorry, Sakura, it'll never happen again."

I glared at him. A fabricated mask of genuineness was plastered over his countenance, and though his every feature was grazed with solemnity, his eyes, brilliant greens, gave away to laughter. "Shut up." I snapped at him, quickening my pace. This earned a chuckle, and within the second, his crimson bob of hair appeared in the corner of my eye, strolling casually beside me once again.

Before I even realized it, eleven blocks had gone quickly by, even a little too soon, as I was beginning to like the whole me-and-Gaara-walking-alone-together scene, and before I knew it, familiar mini-gates of the yard appeared into view.

Everything happened so fast after that, a blur of the moment transpiring too fleetingly for the littlest registration.

I thanked Gaara and bid goodbye, though before I could walk away his hand had grasped my wrist. Unexpectedly he pulled me back to him, and without a warning (which I would've very much appreciated so I hadn't just stood and gaped like so moronically) Gaara leaned down, brushing his lips on the side of my cheek.

He whispered goodbye and walked away, leaving me alone to mesmerize like the loser I was.

I could pinpoint exactly where he had kissed me: on my right cheek, just below the cheek bone, about an inch and a quarter away from my nose. The feel of his lips still lingered.

Girlishly, I let out a dreamy sigh.

* * *

I practically flew the rest of the way to the front door, a lively sensation fizzing inside me.

My verve, however, was short-lived, as what waited for me on the other side of the door eliminated the bliss like a balloon pricked by a razor-sharp pin.

The sight of my infuriated father tapping his foot impatiently as he stood in front of the doorway, evidently upset at his finding of his only daughter's empty bed, was not the worst part.

"I almost had a search team out for you!" He yelled. My dad could have easily done that, assemble a search team, all with a single call. He had connections, and lots of them involved with the police department. "Do you know how long I've been waiting? Two hours, Sakura! _Two hours!_" he repeated, as if the first time hadn't been loud enough.

"And what do I see when you come back? I see you walking with a stranger who kissed you in front of your house. Who was that boy, Sakura? And where the hell did you _go_?"

Eventually, miraculously, I managed to calm him down.

It took a lot of explanation and repetition, about an hour's worth, to have him believe that I'd gotten lost, and that Gaara (a _good _guy, I kept telling my father) had only the courtesy to walk me back home; and that that was _all _that happened. When my father was finally convinced that I hadn't snuck out with a boy and slept with him (after much promises) it took another hour or so elucidate why exactly I'd taken the walk in the first place—a question that I didn't have a good enough, truthful enough, answer to.

For this reason, I'd remained silent and let him ramble on about his lectures. Dad was grounding me, sentenced for two weeks, though if you asked me, sitting here listening to his scolding, reiterating the very same sentences with hardly any variety in wording, was punishment enough. But it was not as if they were ever home long enough to make sure I followed through with the penalty anyway.

Finally done, I left my dad in the kitchen and stalked off to my room.

That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part was seeing a Word document window opened candidly on the screen of my computer, with the words, typed in a large, bolded font:

_**Had fun with the red head?**_

Least to say I was puzzled. Dad? But, who else could've left it? Mom was asleep, and the only one that had seen me with Gaara was him. Still though, it was unlike him to write such a sardonic message like that.

**Rogue: ah, finally, you're here.**

I jumped, startled, at the sudden ring that erupted from the computer. It'd been so quiet. I thought I had—

Just then, a rush of panic quickly spread all over my body, a thousand thoughts rushing into my head at once.

_He_ had followed me. _He_ wrote that message on my window, and must've been near, frighteningly near, when he saw me getting out. Then left a message on my computer.

God, I should've known! What was I thinking, running away as if that would do any good? He had been watching me all along; I was lucky enough that he hadn't jumped out of nowhere and hurt me –like Gaara said. And even after Gaara had come, even in those moments not too long ago that I felt safe, he had still been watching. How vulnerable I must've appeared in his eyes.

**Rogue: Did you get my message?**

Then, another thought occurred to me; something much more uncanny than his surveillance.

**lilpinkchiq: That was you? You typed that? How?**

_How _in the world did he manage to write that message? Of course, using a keyboard, typing, I knew that. But… Word… the program didn't just open by itself. He couldn't have sent me a file, and even if he had, it wouldn't have automatically opened. I saw now that it couldn't have been my dad. I'd gone upstairs before he did. And there was only one other person that had seen me with Gaara tonight.

But how had the Rogue managed to type his message in? He couldn't have done so through a computer; he couldn't have been able to hack in view of the fact that I wasn't online.

Or, I hadn't been. Except I _was _right now. I was sure I hadn't logged onto messenger at all tonight. My user was signed out, my internet disconnected; I was sure of that.

So why was I online, able to talk to the Rogue, at this very moment?

The thought confused me, and I was baffled. But only for a moment.

My mother was asleep. It certainly wasn't my Dad, and thus that left…

The Rogue? Impossible… the only way he could've been able to open a Word document and type his memo in, was if he had opened it himself on my comp—…

I froze, and the sole possibility dawned to me.

Oh God.

**Rogue: Figured it out yet?**

Unable to move, I let my eyes wander around the room, scanning for anything that looked out of place. Any furniture, any accessory, and any _dirt _that wasn't in the way I had left it…but there was none. Everything was in perfect order; untouched, or so it seemed.

**Rogue: I didn't take anything, if that's what you're worried about**

I had a lot more to worry about now. I shuddered at the thought. Trembling, my hands moved across the keyboard, typing my demanding question.

**lilpinkchiq: How did you get into my room?**

The fact that he had recently been here, and had walked on the same ground as I was in right now… there was nothing I could do to stop the chills from going up and down my spine.

**Rogue: well, that was quite easy…**

**lilpinkchiq: How?**

**Rogue: the front door, how else?**

My mom and dad… within the same structure as this psycho, and without the slightest clue there was already someone inside…

**Rogue: the bolt was unlocked. Again. I suppose old habits die hard.**

_How could you have been so careless! _A voice screamed inside me. The Rogue. Inside my house. My room. On my computer. My thoughts were racing. My heart was pounding. I was gasping –though I tried to restrain and stay silent, since the heaving would have awoken my parents, and the last thing I wanted at the moment was to drag closer to this stranger, this madman over the internet.

**Rogue: So. Do you want to play a game?**

**lilpinkchiq: I already played your stupid game. What more do you want?**

**Rogue: Round 2. Who's next?**

**lilpinkchiq: That's not fair.**

**Rogue: It'll only take a step for me to break into your house, you know.**

**Rogue: would you like that? Me. Killing. You? I could do it fast and silent. Your parents won't even suspect a thing. They'll just find you soaked in blood tomorrow morning**

I gulped, trying to steady my quivering body.

**Rogue: This is why you have to give me another kill, otherwise I'll end up choosing **_**you**_**…**

I didn't hesitate. There was no space left for hesitation when both fear and panic have already overloaded my head and body. Without thinking, I replied.

**lilpinkchiq: Kinuta Dosu**

_**Rogue has logged off**_

* * *

It didn't take long, just as I expected that it wouldn't. He hadn't logged off so promptly afterwards without a reason. I supposed he had done it within that very hour.

By the next morning, the end result of last night's conversation had unfurled. A long, signalizing beep interrupted the entire school halfway through the first block, followed by the somber voice of the principal's erupting from the speakers.

"_Please excuse this interruption. May all senior students head down to the auditorium right now; that's all students in years 11 and 12, please head down to the auditorium right now for a quick formal ceremony. Thank you."_

It was not unusual for the elevenths and twelfths to be summoned out of class for special programs and presentations; in fact, it happened quite often, considering that the graduation program started then, and many extra curriculums went on throughout the last two years of high school. But this gathering was different; I could tell by the tone of voice, the diverse use of words.

Ceremony, she'd said, formal ceremony. Usually, it was _presentation, _or _college course briefings, _or _assemblies. _Never ceremonies, much less a formal one.

"What do you think this is about?" said one of the girls that gossiped in back of the crowd as we walked out of the classroom.

"It's probably another one of those no-drugs seminars. Or stuff about cutting class." Another said.

"But it said ceremony, you idiot."

"They make it sound like a funeral or something."

"Sakura!", at the call of my name, I searched the mass for the speaker; and before long I found Ino squeezing her way towards my direction.

"This is interrupted my quality time with…" She trailed off, pouting. "We had a new seating plan in Texiles, so now I'm sitting by the window, and I can see the whole back field, and _he _just happened to be running laps. You know who I'm talking about, right? Yeah, so anyway, I was just watching, and suddenly the PA goes off with another summoning from Tsunade, and now I'm here instead of watching a really hot show."

"How tragic." I said halfheartedly.

"So what's this assembly for, anyway?"

"I don't know." I replied, as my voice cracked, failing me. _Liar,_ said someone in my head, _you know exactly what this is for._

The little fact was lost somewhere in the back of my mind, and I only refused to acknowledge it, both inwardly and outwardly, because it would mean the Rogue had carried through with his act. It would mean that he'd won.

A sick, unsettling sensation gradually developed in my guts as we filed into the auditorium. I took one of the seats at the top, farthest area of the hall. I had a pretty good idea what the ceremony was for (though I equally hoped I was wrong about it) and with that knowledge, the last thing I needed was a front seat.

Ino, on the other hand, was fond of front-row seats, and left me for Ten-Ten and Hinata, both of who were mere feet from the stage. That was fine with me. I needed the solitude at the moment.

"Boys and girls," Tsunade spoke from the podium, addressing us like a bunch of kindergarteners once everyone had taken a sit. "I truly hope there is something positive I can say to welcome you here, but there is nothing and I'll just get straight to the point. I would like to inform you all of a tragic accident involving one of your fellow senior classmates…"

Troubled, I buried my face into my hands, hoping the action would somehow block the negativity in her words that was about to bring forth the bad news I knew impended. Unfortunately though, the sound waves passed through my palms like they were made of paper, and her following statements reached my ear as clear as crystals.

"Kinuta Dosu, a twelfth grade student here at the Academy, had passed away…"

_No. _I thought, over and over, in spite knowing the mere two-letter-word wouldn't alter a thing.

"We were not given a lot of details, and we respect the privacy of his family. According to the news this morning, Dosu's body was found last night, with an impact wound on his head…"

He had done it. Last night. Perhaps just after I had talked to him.

I tuned out the rest of her speech, hearing quite enough. The sick feeling in my stomach extended further, and the more it grew, the more I realized what it was.

A seed of guilt.

_Snap out of it Sakura, _said an inner voice, _You're being ridiculous. It wasn't your fault. _

Everything surrounding me, the chairs, walls, equipment, people, all turned into one big blur before my eyes. My head felt twice as heavy, and the muscles in my brain tightened –needless to say, my head hurt, and I felt far too overwhelmed to think. A million thoughts rushed through my head, but I concentrate on none of them.

Except for one. One thought, or a question, really, amongst the confusing brain wave, recurred repetitively in my mind. It glowed and stood out from the rest, sinisterly distinct.

All of a sudden, something was caught in my throat, the imaginary blockage preventing me from making a sound, from respiration.

I was going to be sick.

The air was thick; the room, packed; too many thoughts, too many feelings.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

…All because of a sole question, one that repeated itself over and over in my mind, echoing in my skull.

_Did I kill Dosu?_

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

Uchiha Sasuke was pissed, to say the least.

Firstly, HLA's principal was making too much of a big deal about some dead guy who was wrapped like a mummy –he already looked dead even when he was alive. Dosu, that was his name.

Sasuke had already met the bastard a few years back. He was a friend of that kid whose arms he'd broken with ease. Now that the guy was dead, he felt no remorse.

Who gives a crap, anyways? He's just one of the hundred people who died every single day.

Secondly, they weren't even supposed to be here. He and the other guys were supposed to be running the dogs –which was, he had to admit, loads more exciting than having to sit through an assembly meant supposedly for the Academy's students. Not them.

And what's most annoying?

Sakura.

She was like this little trembling nuisance hunched up in the corner of his eye. What's wrong with _her?_ Normally, he wouldn't care. But she was acting so peculiar that he couldn't focus his attention towards the podium without stealing glances at her direction.

Suddenly, the girl rose sharply. Hurrying and almost tripping over her own foot, she bolted out of the auditorium.

Sasuke shot upright, and abruptly he was on his feet, ignoring the odd where-the-hell-are-you-going look Nara sent him.

It was curiosity, he told himself, not concern that had rendered him to do what he did next.

Without much thought into the action, he went after her.

_

* * *

_

A/n: Sorry for the delay. I made the most of summer's last outings before we're sent back to Academic Jail this Tuesday.

_Speaking of, __school will probably slow down my updating/writing, so I ask for patience. But then again, my absolute lack of obligations the past two months has turned me into a human sloth, & it hadn't exactly sped things up for this story. __Maybe school will __give me back my workaholic-ness._

_Oh! &I got into English Honors!!! *Jumps for joy* It's the one class I'm looking forward to. This sounds weird: but I actually wanna learn a lot. In writing. I'm hoping it'll improve my amateurish skills. Ahahaha._

_**Read Review and Thank You! **(Shall we try and go over 400?! =D)_

_Endlessly Grateful for all your motivating feedbacks,  
__Keelah._


	19. Lying in Wait

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Rogue: Suit yourself. Oh, and make sure you're present at school tomorrow._

_I have a… little surprise for you.__.._

* * *

_**Chapter EIGHTEEN  
**__**Lying in Wait**_

I needed to get out.

And I needed to get out _now._

Stumbling, I dashed up the aisle, my eyes fastened onto the red glow of the EXIT sign, attempting to steal away unnoticed. If the assembly had been of something else, I would have been caught in an instant; but as it was about graver matter, each and every focus in the room was austerely towards the podium, where the principal spoke with the same significance.

A thunderous bang echoed along the hall as the auditorium doors swung violently, smashing against the wall and creating a ruckus that would have drawn the attention of anyone in the region. Instead however, following the blast was a thick, unresponsive silence. The hush of the corridor stretched far from one end to the other, without a single soul in sight.

Every step I took seemed to reverberate in the emptiness of the passageway, every footfall announcing my presence with a muffled thud against linoleum floors, pressing harder into my mind the fact that I was so alone, internally and, now, physically as well.

Despite my instinctive need to flee from Dosu's memorial, and the crushing sentiments that overwhelmed me whilst listening to Tsunade's speech, willpower and impulse were not enough to keep my limbs upright. They quivered unsteadily, and after only a few steps my legs began to cave in beneath me, unable to sustain the hundred pounds of my weight, every one of which was heavily drenched in self-reproach. Guilt yanked to the ground my entire being, the force even stronger than gravity—or perhaps that was because of my resignation.

_Had I killed him? _The question was all I could think of. _Had I really killed Dosu? _

Doubled over, I leaned against the nearest adjacent wall for support. And I stood there, holding my stomach, gasping… panting… struggling to catch my breath, all the while repressing the bile and vomit that rose in the bottom of my throat, threatening to spew out any second.

It was the Rogue—he who had murdered Dosu.

_But you__ told him to, _accused a voice in my mind. I shut my eyes tightly, as if the act would somehow block the allegation. _He forced me to_, I countered, trying to convince myself, _he forced me._

It did not work. Guilt still effectively ate me up from the inside, and there was a hollow feeling in my chest that I couldn't get rid of. In my mind was a battle of two perspectives. _You're the reason he's dead, _a part of me whispered sharply in my head, _you're the reason he's not alive right now._

_No, _another voice argued, _it wasn't your fault. He had forced you to. How else could you have acted under that kind of duress? He was scaring you. You had no choice._

Did I, really? Would any normal person have given a name for a stranger to kill?

First it was Kin, and now Dosu. Both dead because of me. Relatively speaking, I had just killed two people—only… indirectly; because I was too afraid _not _to obey him.

But what could I have done otherwise?

_Excuses, excuses, _hissed my inner consciousness, like a little red devil on my shoulder poking me with a gigantic fork. In the same moment, a spot deep in the back of my skull pulsed with ache, stinging from the overload of thoughts. I groaned, "Ugh," Fortunately, no one near was around to witness my developing insanity. "Shut up."

_You shouldn't hav__e done it. You knew he was going to kill Dosu, but you did it anyway. You gave him Dosu's name anyway._

"Shut up." I hissed, "Stop it. I didn't kill him. It wasn't me."

"Sakura?" I jerked. "What the hell are you—?"

Whirling around to face the person who had just interrupted my previous frenzy, I found myself standing only yards away from Uchiha Sasuke. In any other condition, I would've assumed he was referring to some other of the same name, yet the hall was empty and he couldn't have mistaken me for anyone else. The two of us stood in the middle of an empty corridor, and right then I knew there was no escaping the puzzled frown surfacing on his visage, or the questions he bound to demand of me.

"Are you crying?" He blurted bewilderedly, studying my face like it was the most peculiar and disgusting thing he'd ever seen; but I was far too rattled for the insult to properly sink in. "Over _Dosu_? You've never even talked to him."

"I..." I stuttered, and when I was unable to conjure up a lie, I resorted to cowardly fleeting the situation. "I need to go." I bit out, taking a step forward to push past the Uchiha, before he could ask another question I hadn't an honest answer to. "Bye."

"Whoa," Sasuke called out and positioned himself in my path. "What's the hurry? I haven't talked to you since Friday."

This was _not_ what I needed right now. "Last time I checked," I snapped, "our truce doesn't include interaction every single day. It just means we don't fight. And not talking is not fighting."

"Why are you being a bitch?"

"Why are you being a jerk?" I retorted.

"I'm not. I came out here to..." His words faded, the sentence hanging in the air unfinished, sparking up within me a sense of curiosity and impatience. =

"To?" I prompted.

Sasuke shook his head, raven locks falling out of order to veil the frustration in his eyes. "Forget it," he said, swivelling around to turn his back towards me. Over his shoulder, he uttered, "I came out here for nothing."

The angel on my shoulder goaded me to speak out, to take back the uncouth words that have come out of my mouth, or at least to offer, if anything, a half-hearted apology. However before I could make a sound, a thunderous bang echoed along the hall.

The auditorium doors slammed violently, smashing close against each other and creating a ruckus that would have drawn the attention of anyone in the region. Instead though, following the blast was another thick and unresponsive silence. The hush of the corridor stretched far from one end to the other, without a single soul in sight.

Once again, I was alone.

* * *

**Rogue: Let's play.**

It was no longer the fear-provoking "Do you want to play a game?" question.

Now, it was no longer a suggestion, nor a query, but a word of authority—command.

**lilpinkchiq****: No.**

I was well aware of the futility of my rejection. It would ward him off, for at least a few hours, perhaps the entire night, but he would always come back, always with the same demand, _"Let's play."_ There was no escape, but that did not mean it wasn't worth the try.

**Rogue: I think you've mistaken that as a suggestion instead of the order it really is. Let me try again.**

**Rogue: Let's. Fucking. Play.**

**lilpinkchiq****: I know it's an order. My answer's still the same.**

**lilpinkchiq****: No.**

_Brave, _I thought to myself, as that was what my reply sounded like. In reality, I felt far from courageous, considering I was still quite shaken up from Dosu's ceremony.

It was already around six in the evening. I'd gone straight to the shower the moment I came back from school, and then straight to bed the moment after that. I figured it'd help clear my mind, if at least only for a short while. And odd as it was, my slumber turned out dreamless and continual, surprisingly enough. Although Dosu's death was still a grey cloud looming in my subconsciousness, my head was clearer, my mind not anymore a whirlwind of muddled thoughts and sentiments. I could think now, or at least enough to have enough rationality to refuse the Rogue.

**lilpinkchiq****: I'm not letting you hurt anyone else. I won't let you do to more people what you did to Kin and Dosu**

**Rogue: ****ah, Dosu. Do you even know what happened to him?**

I gulped.

**Rogue: Of course you don't.**** Tsunade hadn't explained it earlier. Would you like to know how he died?**

**lilpinkchiq****: No. Shut up.**

**Rogue: I'll tell you anyway.**

**Rogue: I struck his head with a metal rod. It cracked his skull. I heard parts of it even pierced through his brain. Tragic.** **There was some blood, but not a whole lot. it was mostly internal bleeding. In his brain. He died pretty quickly afterwards.**

**Rogue: You know the best part though? The guy was wasted. Made it easier luring him to an isolate corner. Gave me a great cover up too. once they found alcohol in his body, everyone assumed he just hit his head cuz he was drunk. A perfect murder, don't you think?**

**lilpinkchiq****: Just go away. I played your little game. I'm done.**

**Rogue: S****omething bad will happen when you don't do what I tell you**

_**lilpinkchiq**__** has logged off.**_

**Rogue: Suit yourself. Oh, and make sure you're present at**** school tomorrow.**

**Rogue: I have a… **_**little **_**surprise for you.**

_**Rogue has logged off.**_

* * *

The instant after signing off, I picked up the phone and pressed my thumb on number eight. Within two seconds the receiver began to beep, automatically dialling itself, and all too soon a girlish, accusing voice erupted from the other line.

"You ditcher! Where the heck did you go today? I was waiting for you outside the theatre for hours! Afterschool too! And you weren't in Bio." Ino's number was stored on speed dial. With the constancy of our talking on the phone, it was nearly a necessity.

"Can you meet me at the café down by the sixteenth?" I asked her, "Konoha Square; the place with the brown leather couches."

"Let's see: do I have a choice?"

"Not quite. I'll see you in half an hour." I hung up.

Ino was the only person (other than Naruto) who would, undoubtedly and unhesitatingly, go with me on the last minute. I needed to do something, anything, to keep my mind off the Rogue and his… deeds; I needed to be distracted.

I still remembered Tsunade's words, or at least the ones I heard before I tuned her out.

"_A tragic accident."_ She called it, her voice echoing in my mind. A tragic _accident_. That was what everyone else thought too, I supposed; that Dosu had been drunk, hence his death was basically his liability. He, himself, was to blame for accidently hitting his head against someplace. Little did they know, the truth of the tale was not even remotely close to an accident. He was hit on the head, on purpose, by a metal rod. I remembered how the Rogue described it: _skull cracked, pierced through the brain_… an image according to the description formed involuntarily in my mind, and I shuddered… _internal bleeding—_

I snapped out of the daze that I drew myself into. This was exactly why I couldn't stay alone, locked inside my room. I'd end up thinking too much, psyching myself out.

Hastily, I threw on a pair of jeans and a baby blue sweatshirt; with a last glance towards the mirror beside the door, I left quietly–making certain that this time, I locked the front door. It was the second night this week (not to mention it was only Tuesday) that I'd gone out without asking my parents first; and I prayed silently that they wouldn't wake up anytime soon.

The bistro (named The Hokage, although over the years Ino and I just settled for the uncreative nickname: the café with brown leather couches) was about a block and a half away from my house, a twelve minute walk, on the other side of the immense Recreational Centre (and the Konoha Secondary –according to Gaara), where the more commercial area of the neighborhood was located. The Hokage was found in the Konoha Plaza, along with the grocery stores, restaurants, clothing outlets, fast foods, banks, and shoe shops, scattered neatly across the area worth of one square kilometer –basically the uptown, non-city, one-floored version of a mall, only this was called a "square".

Ino was already in the café when I got there, and had already reserved a table for us, with a cup of hot latte presented before her. Walking over, I took a seat opposite of her, upon the brown leather couch that seemed to have permanently caught the caffeine-rich aroma of the shop.

"What are you wearing?" Ino asked as I sat down, looking slightly revolted at my clothes, making me look down at my attire as well. Sweatshirt, old jeans, and a pair of Pumas. "You look like a mom who's just gone grocery shopping." I then looked at what she was wearing. Black leggings, a pleated denim skirt, a cashmere top, and flats.

Unaffected, I gave a nonchalant shrug, "What about you? We're at a café to grab some dinner. Not a party."

"Better overdressed than underdressed," She sang.

"Is it?" I challenged her, glad this senseless argument was giving me what I came here for: a diversion. "Whatever, it's not like we know anyone here."

"You never know," Ino pointed out. "Anyway, what's up? I had to beg my dad to let me go out. It's a school night, in case you've forgotten. And where the heck did you go today?"

"I went home early. That... assembly about Dosu got to me, I guess."

"You never cared about that guy," said she, "But it _is _weird. I mean, Kin, and now Dosu? All within a week. Talk about creepy. My guess, since those who hung out with each other, is that they're part of a gang or something. And then, now, bad people are after them, killing them off one by one."

_Close, _I thought fretfully, _but not quite. _"That's stupid." I told Ino, ignoring the persistent feeling in my gut. "It's just two accidents that happened in the same week."

She shrugged, "I guess. Well, enough about Dosu and that bitch—… what are you doing?"

"Huh?" Ino was giving me a look, a kind that I did not entirely understand. "What?" I blurted.

"You keep looking around everywhere. Are we waiting for someone?"

"Uh, no." I said, shocked because I'd been unaware of my looking-around tendency until then.

"Who are you looking for then?"

"No one." I snapped, dismissing the subject matter as a server came to take our orders. The whole time Ino watched me, and plastered on her face was a sly grin that hinted it was time to torture me. For a moment, the space between us was filled only with silence, with her thinking and I dreading the time that she would speak her thoughts, and just after our food was served, she let drop: "Is it Sasuke?"

"What?" I exclaimed, bewildered. "Where did _that_ come from?

"Is he coming here?"

"No." I replied, "Why would he?"

"Because you invited him?"

"And I would do that because...?"

"Aren't the two of you an item?"

Hot chocolate milk sputtered out of my lips. "_No_." I revealed; the idea of her previous statement was too impossible that my brain couldn't even comprehend. "Never. Sasuke and I are impractical. There is _nothing_ going on between us, except perhaps World War III—"

"Damn, relax." Ino cried out, her open palms raised on surrender to halt my unfounded prattle. "I get it."

"You do?" was my sceptic response.

"Yeah." She smiled, kindly, at first, before the expression turned cunning with an undercurrent mockery. "Denial is the first stage of love."

"You're impossible. What you're suggesting is impossible."

"Then why are you getting so defensive?" Ino grinned. "I see you guys together all the time. If only you didn't hate him so much, you'd be perfect together. And if you don't want him, then cut the leash, will you? There are other girls in waiting."

"Right, about your fixation on Sasuke, one problem Ino: he's on probation. They all are, even that Shikamaru guy. Why do you think Kakashi and Morino are always on the lookout for them?"

Ino sighed heavily, her head hitting the table, as if she had lost and was now giving up, "What a waste…" she murmured, her words slightly muffled, "Totally sizzling yet behind the bars."

My eyes rolled. "How's the spying-on-Shikamaru thing going?" I asked for a change of topic.

"I am not _spying._" Ino emphasized, "I'm not _that _desperate. And, oh! I You know that girl with the weird pigtails, the one he's always with? For the past few days, she hasn't been around. But hey, I'm not complaining."

Rolling my eyes, I took a sip from the mug of hot choco. We were silent for a while, eating, before Ino stilled out of the blue. Looking up, I caught sight of her scrunched countenance, half a frown and the other half, a grin threatening to break free. Whether she was surprised, or happy, or witty, or sarcastic, or all those blended together, I had no way of deciphering; even my best-friend-psychic-skills were not enough to make out the meaning of that look on her face.

"Hey, Sakura?" she started, "You know earlier, when I dissed your outfit, and you said whatever, because, according to you, it's not like we know anyone here?"

I raised an eyebrow, motioning her to carry on. "Yeah?"

"Well, we do now."

On impulse, I turned around to see whoever Ino's sky-blue eyes had sighted, and it took no less than half a second to spot Sasuke and his mob just entering the restaurant.

"Oh." I muttered and quickly twisting back around. I sunk deep into the leather couch –thankful that it was big and bulky, enough to conceal me from their view. With an abrupt whispered snap at Ino, "We have to go!" I grabbed some money from my pocket and slapped it on the table. "_Now_."

Ino, deliberately disregarding my haste, questioned –and quite loudly, as if to announce the inquiry to the whole place, "Why not stay and socialize?"

I scuffed and threw a plastic fork at her, "Would you lower your voice?" I hissed. In stealth, my eyes darted back at the mob gathered by the small front foyer, and who were now heading our direction. I slumped back down the chair and threw on my hoodie, mentally wishing I'd tied up my hair so the locks wouldn't dangle so evidently in pink as it currently did. I felt them nearing, and I was frozen.

Crap. Sasuke was here. Crap.

"Are they coming?" I whispered. Ino shrugged, her unhelpfulness earning her a glare from my narrowed gaze. Sneaking a last glance over my shoulder and through the curtain of my hair, I realized they were only within three yards away from us.

Before I knew it, I landed on the ground with a _Thump!_, hidden between the table and the chair. I stayed in that position for a few seconds, until the footsteps had passed by and receded. At a snail's pace, I looked up, only to be greeted by the shock and disbelief on my best friend's features.

"Did...?" She stuttered, "Did you just seriously hide under the table? You are embarrassing me!"

I glared at her and grabbed my twenty dollar bill from the table. "Have fun paying." I hissed at her, and was up and out of the door within a matter of seconds, leaving the blonde-haired girl with a scowl.

* * *

Outside, the night was almost entirely dark, save for the diminutive moonlight that was the only source of luminosity –and even that was reducing whenever a cloud or two floated across. It didn't take long before the wintry coldness seeped through my sweatshirt and bit frostily on my skin –a sure sign that summer had already passed and was now replaced by autumn.

Shadows loomed at practically every corner, a result from little light and much darkness, and it didn't help that I was only one of about four or five people in the plaza's wide open parking lot. Everyone else was either inside the buildings, or at home, considering that it _was _Tuesday night –an unlikely time to be out. Briskly, I started to make my way home.

One out of the five people that were outside with me was a homeless scruffy looking old man, digging through the trashcans on the other side of the parking lot. There was a lady and a man, who loaded groceries into the trunk of their car several yards away, and the closest people were two men, just six or so meters before me. Judging from the bottles that laid messily across the area surrounding them, and by the way their silhouettes swayed and their volume notched up too loud, it was quite obvious they were drunk. And I was nearing them. Fast.

I knew I should've been afraid of the two wasted men loitering by the street corner—and I was, though only for awhile. Something else had caught my attention. Quickly, I flicked my eyes toward the thick veil of trees and plants that filled the edges of the sidewalk, and towards the little peek of the woods that stretched out extensively beyond the back of the town square.

Whatever I'd seen had been gone, withdrawing just as quickly as it appeared, and I was left staring at the nothingness behind the two drunken men (who by now had focused the sole attention on my approaching figure). I was too caught up observing the plain row of coniferous firs, its leaves darkened by the faint moonlight that I hadn't noticed the two men –who had already stood up straight from their previous leaning position against the wall. They just stood there. Stood and stared.

The two men stepped forward, and I was only about two yards away from them now, but I was still fixated upon the woods. The nagging feeling in my guts wouldn't disappear, leading me to forget just how much in danger I was in at the moment, face to face with two drunken men. But in the same way, I had a feeling that I had a lot more reason to fear of that (seemingly) blank area beneath the shadows and leaves. The two men, grinning, neared forward another step, and a slight panic surged in the back of my head.

Out of the blue –or the darkness, I should say- a hand came from nowhere, landing on the small of my back, and in one smooth motion, determinedly steered me towards the other side of the sidewalk, away from the two filthy-looking men.

Dazed, I let my eyes wander from the mysterious hand that currently lead me from harm, up the arm that was sleeved in a faded old jacket, and upon the face of its mysterious owner.

_Sasuke, _I thought, staring upon his moonlit face –stone hard and indifferent, as he placed himself between me and the drunken duo.

His grip was firm, almost selfish on my back as he guided me forward past the two leering men, graceful yet in control, reminding me somewhat of a male dancer leading his female counterpart as they waltzed across the floor.

The moment however, did not last; for as soon as we were a good metre or so past the two creepers, Sasuke's once-reassuring grip on my back dropped away within a second. He withdrew his hand, hiding it into the depths of his jacket's front pockets; his sidestep away from me –although it was only a step- did not go unnoticed under my observation either. He was acting as though I all of a sudden obtained an infectious disease that would kill him if he ever caught it. Mr. Gentleman was of no more, evaporating just like that as soon as the good deed for the day was done; which left me having to deal with the ill-tempered, PMSing, Uchiha that always seemed to have a stick up his ass. How great.

Even better, Uchiha was now staring at me with that irritating know-it-all look on his pretty face that said, "Are you okay?" with all the hints clearly pointing out that he already thought I was mad.

I narrowed my eyes, guardedly. "What?"

"As I recall, this is the second time I've come to your rescue." He indicated which surprised me that he even kept count.

"I was never really in any danger." I snapped and kept walking.

It was only then that I realized just how cold it was. I mean I already knew; except with the Uchiha nearby just a few seconds earlier, the draftiness of the evening had been entirely forgotten. Now that he was away, as far as a yard from where I was, and that the warmth of his touch was no longer there, I was reminded of just how freezing the night really was.

I shuddered, although I didn't know whether it was just the cold, or because of the fact that I was now right beside the spot where I saw… well, I wasn't really quite sure of what I saw, but I saw _something _and from my instincts I could say it wasn't anything good; and being this close to that area was enough to send me shivering.

"What are you staring at?" Sasuke's voice piped in suddenly, and the gibe in it was evident. Turning to look at him, Sasuke only nodded his head back towards the spot I'd been observing. "You're acting like you've never seen a tree before."

Irritated, I brushed him off, and continued walking; leaving him and whatever I'd seen behind.

Unfortunately though, I couldn't loose Sasuke just like that; within seconds, he'd followed me, not quite walking beside me, but he didn't saunter off too far behind either—just close enough to pose as though he lingered around to guard me, make sure I remained safe. One could look at it that way; in another perspective though, you could just as easily say he was stalking me, trailing my footsteps –the thought of it had me walking faster… and faster…

All of a sudden, a hand shot out of nowhere, grasping my arm, causing me to twirl instantly out of panic. Gasping, I looked up at Sasuke, who looked just as surprised as I was.

"Hey—relax." There was questioning kind of expression in his eyes, one that looked for any sort of explanation about my sudden edginess, but I shook my head giving him no answer.

"What?" I snapped, staring at the ground as I tried to shift the subject.

Thankfully, he let it go. Instead of giving me a proper response though, he jerked his head to the side, and my eyes followed the motion, soon landing upon my house that I had just walked past twice now within the week. I did not feel foolish, however; rather, as I stared up the house, I felt… troubled? I couldn't shake off the feeling that this wasn't the same house I once called my home. It was different. The same front yard, the same front porch, the same ochre colored walls with the same vast glassy windows implanted it… the same house I grew up in.

But it wasn't quite my home. It was… somewhat emptier—and it wasn't just because the garage was empty, indicating that my parents were gone. Something else about it made it empty, made it almost sinister. The dull house just sat there, in the midst of its shadows made extra darker under the weak moonlight, as if in waiting,

Waiting on me to dare to enter; as if something else inside was waiting too…

…Waiting for _me_.

* * *

_**Ino Yamanaka**_

Ino had seen the whole scene. From the moment Uchiha Sasuke had followed her best friend out the door (an act which instantly caught her interest, so she quickly decided to follow behind as well), to the moment he lead her away from those two disgusting men that loitered on the curb. All the while Ino had just stepped back, relaxed and enjoyed the show.

Just as she was about to leave the other way though, after the show was over and Sakura and Sasuke continued on walking, something had caught her eye and made her turn back.

Out of the shadows, a figure –a man, that much she could tell- emerged from behind the trees, stepping out onto the sidewalk. He walked casually, except there was something in the way he did that bothered her; he had a steady pace, yet somehow it was slow, like he was lingering, almost…shadowing.

Ino frowned.

_Is it just me,__ or was that man following Sakura?_

* * *

_A/n: I know this is late, but it took a while __to kind of get used to school again. Believe it or not, I've already made it a goal for myself to finish up this story by the end of the school year, which is June of next year. No idea if I can actually do it though—but I'll do my best and try._

_**Read, Review and Thank You! **__(Once again, I wanna thank all of you guys who've read and reviewed this story. It means a lot.)_

_Sincerely,  
__Keelah._

_(Oh! Oh! And guess who just turned sweet sixteen!? XD Time to get my driver's test... ahaha)_


	20. Little Surprises

**Instant Message  
By "Keelah"**

* * *

_I pictured Sai and Sasuke both as the same side of a magnet. Alike, but repellent to one another. They were comparable in countless ways they would never admit to. Their resemblance stretched out not only in appearance—but in terms of personality as well. _

_Though unmistakably similar, nearly identical, their characters clashed and collided._

* * *

_**Chapter NINETEEN  
Little Surprises**_

"…_Oh, and make sure you're present at school tomorrow."_

I frowned and shook my head, unable to get those echoing words off my mind—the same words that've been repeating itself over and over throughout the whole morning now.

My suspicions had been correct: there _was _something waiting for me inside the house last night. More specifically, in my room, on my desktop, a message, waiting to be read—which I did so eventually, sending shivers down my back as its memory did now.

"_I have a… _little_ surprise for you."_

A surprise? What kind of a surprise? Something inside however told me the answer to that question was one I'd rather not know. When I was child, I used to adore surprises. Now, a surprise from the Rogue, the thought of it only made me sick. I dreaded to find out what this little bombshell of his was. And the wait of it only made the apprehension worse.

Though as it turned out: I did not have to wait long.

His surprise was waiting for me just around the corner.

Literally.

* * *

As every other place located in Konoha, the complex of the Hidden Leaves Academy was surrounded with nothing more than natural greens; from the thick-patched forest the student body claimed as their own, the woodlands bordering around the back and the staff parking lot, the endless fields that stretched out on the east side of the campus, everlasting acres that the school used as a sports grounds, the park across the street, down to the part-park, part-playground west of the compound—all was patched with coniferous trees and profuse bushes.

And that was where it waited.

Around the corner of the block, by the little park with the playground all the kids from the elementary school down the street always went to. The moment the lunch bell rang, I strolled, quite aimlessly, out the school buildings to escape the claustrophobic halls.

As soon as I was outside, it took no longer than a second or two to notice the big crowd of people, most of them students of HLA, gathered just around the corner by the mini park.

I frowned and wondered what was going on. A fight perhaps? I guessed so, though on the other hand, that was rather unlikely. Many of the pupils of the academy were decent, and no one would hold a fight near a playground area where their first audiences would be a bunch of seven-year-olds. So if it wasn't a fight, and what _was _it?

Curiosity, as always, took hold of my instincts, and soon I was headed for the crowd's direction.

"_What happened?"_

"_Oh my god."_

"_Someone call an ambulance!"_

The episode was fresh, I noticed, as officers or any staff had yet to arrive on site and handle the frantic mass. Meanwhile, as long as it took for the teachers to notice, only more and more people gathered to gossip. The random voices from the multitude only caused me to walk faster, and the closer I got, the more clearly their conversations reached my ears.

"_Is she breathing?"_

"_I think she's dead already."_

Progressively, I made my way through the thick mob of bystanders—that I now realized formed a circle; circling what, exactly, was what I was about to find out.

"_The poor thing was just lying there in the bushes!"_

"_What do you think happened?"_

"_Maybe she fell."_

I squeezed through the last row of people and looked around to see what was so attention-grabbing. It took me another second or two to realize I only had to look down to see just that.

Laying there, on the ground, was a little girl; a little seven or eight year-old girl that, as far as I could tell from her spring colored clothes (despite it being the middle of fall) and her orange-brown hair perked up in pig tails, might have been a fun-loving, energetic kid. Note the past tense, in view of the fact that the sight of her now contradicted what she once might have been. Despite her attire, no longer was she lively or energetic as she lay inert on the ground— breathless and motionless. Her eyes, though wide open, were without life, and yet as unresponsive as they appeared, I saw struggle in them, and panic, and pain. What happened to her?

Suddenly, I had a strong, unpleasant sensation developing in the bottom of my stomach, along with the urge to bail it out there at that very moment. But I couldn't—not with the little girl's eyes, dead and bloodshot, locked with mine, holding me in place. She was dead already; and, judging from her extreme paleness, has been for quite some time now.

The thought of death only intensified that distasteful gut-feeling in my body; almost everywhere I go, there's someone dead. It felt like a sickening curse I couldn't escape from.

No matter where I run, or how far I run, or however fast I run, I find that death is already there… waiting.

Just waiting.

Out of the blue, barely heard over the crowd's loud nattering, came the shrill ringing of my phone from my back pocket. Robotically, I took out the cellular and flipped it open.

"Yes?" I answered, blandly.

"_See what happens when you don't do what I tell you?" _sneered a bitter voice in a whisper—it took not a single cell in my brain to identify the voice on the other line; it was unmistakable.

Slowly, I drew a deep, long breath.

"_Like my surprise?"_

Then it occurred to me, what he tried to indicate last night. A small surprise. Small. He meant a kid. He meant a little kid; a little girl, as it turned out. Suddenly, I felt sick.

Gathering up the little amount of courage left in me, I replied lowly, my voice coming out in a squeak. "Why would you kill a little girl?"

"I never intended to."

"What do you mean, you never intended to? You killed her, didn't you?" I accused, bearing in mind to keep my voice down. The last thing I wanted was for a prying stranger to hear this conversation.

"Yes, I did. But it was perfectly random. You think that by not naming a new victim, you're saving people's lives? Wrong. I do not simply stop just like that. This is how it works. Every time you don't give me a kill, I pick one of my own. The little girl was just unlucky enough to be in my line of sight during the time."

"You're disgusting." I blurted out before any thought. "She's what, seven? Eight?"

"Eight," was his effortless reply, as if the fact hadn't nagged his conscience at all (though again, to do such a thing and not be troubled, he must not even have a conscience) "her name is Moegi. She attends the elementary around the block. She's much like you, actually. Bright child. High GPA. Adorable, for a kid. Too bad she's gone."

"'_Too bad_'?" I hissed on the phone. "You did this!"

"I suggest you calm down, before you cause a scene there, yelling like that. People are starting to stare."

Self-consciously, I looked up and found that the Rogue was right. Eyes were on me, but instead of caring, I found myself scanning the crowd instead, checking the area for anyone who happened to be using their phone. If Rogue could see what was happening, that meant he was here, expertly camouflaged amid these faces.

"Don't even try looking. I'm not stupid enough to stand anywhere near where you can see me."

I scoffed, eyes narrowed, as I snapped my head back towards the girl—the sight of her made my vision blur, and I shut my eyes tight, preventing the tears from escaping. The helplessness… that guilt that bubbled up in the depth of my guts as I stared into her vacant eyes… I couldn't shake off the feeling, and it was all so frustrating.

"See how red her eyes are?" He whispered antagonistically over the phone, reminding me that he was still on the line. And to answer the previous question, yes, I saw. They were bloodshot; no chance anyone would miss its redness. "And the marks on her neck. See them?" Involuntarily, I let my gaze hover over her neck, which was a little out of sight from my perspective, but undoubtedly I spotted the raw prints that encircled her neck. Handprints.

"Strangulation." He stated, almost smugly; his tone was uncaring, heartless. Perhaps he _was_ heartless. A pause; then, he taunted, snide and teasing, as if he hadn't just strangled an eight-year-old girl to death, "Don't be so shocked. Seeing people dead will be a part of your everyday from now on."

Appalled by this assertion, I tore the phone away from my ear and hung up. Sparing a last glance towards the little girl, I turned away.

I could feel the tears trickling down each of my cheeks as I made my way through the crowd, trying to escape the claustrophobic upshot before the walls of people closed in on me—which had me frustrated, causing more tears to flow. It wasn't like I was crying; it was more a natural reaction than anything else. It didn't feel as though I was crying, but as frustration and helplessness grew, the more the tears came.

I couldn't shake off the image in my head; the image of the dead little girl, whose life was taken way too early. Her eyes haunted me, her bloodshot eyes, opened to wide round circles—yet even that couldn't conceal the lifelessness in them, or how blank they were.

I thought back on the Rogue's words: _it was perfectly random_. But she had a name. Moegi. She was eight years old. She was bright. Cheerful, when she was still alive. She went to school. She had friends. She was smart and most likely had parents who were proud of her. She had a life. Not so random now, was she? I thought bitterly.

She was eight; I couldn't seem to get that off my head. Eight—way too young to be taken from this world. Eight—I've lived nearly twice as long as she has, and yet I was here, alive and well, and she lay back there, on the ground, lifeless.

As I sprinted back towards the school, in the background the sound of sirens filled the air from afar. In a distance, Morino emerged from the opening double doors of the Academy's main entrance, and was rushing over towards my direction in an instant. Behind me I could suddenly hear Kakashi (who was about ten years younger than old Morino and had no problem outrunning him) ordering the crowd, "Back away, people! Move back!" Morino was close approaching.

In the corner of my eye, with flashing red lights, an ambulance rushed past, followed by a fire truck, then a police car. They were the automatic three: I learned that from my dad, who worked in the police department for years. Call nine-one-one, and whatever the situation is, a fire truck, a police car, and an ambulance would come. Just in case. To be prepared for whatever the situation may be.

Except as all this happened around me, I couldn't help but think:

_It's too late._

_You're _all_ too late._

Reaching the front porch the building's entrance, I realized a mob of young men were blocking the doorway and immediately, as I ran up the stairs three steps at a time, I recognized them. The guys, who else but the ones part of that special program the school held, gathered in front of the doors, watching by the sidelines the hubbub that went on at the end of the street.

But that did not stop me. Without missing a beat, I scurried right past them, never looking up, even as I heard the Uchiha's ever-so-familiar voice call out after me, _"Sakura!"_

Now, nearly several meters away from the commotion, just before I went in the building, I risked a glance back. Then, as if speaking to Moegi herself, if ever she could here me now, I murmured in a soft whisper audible only to myself:

"_I'm sorry."_

* * *

I sat at the bottom of a wide stairway, with my arms stretched out in front of me as they rested on my knees, hands clasped together. I was in the Business Center, where all marketing and economic classes were held, surrounded by the library, the faculty lounge and a study area in the center. It was the one place in the academy that was left isolated during the lunch break and after school, with only an occasional student or two coming in to study or work. I liked it in here, and though it was considered a nerdy place by most of the student body, it was quiet, and calm, unlike the rest of the packed-full halls of the school. Excluding the classrooms, it was also the only area that was carpeted.

A coffee stand stood in the opposite side of the room, backed up in a corner of the foyer-like area. From where I sat I could smell the caffeine, an aroma I've grown to be fond of. It was light, sophisticated and seemed to have a calming effect on my nerves.

I glanced up at one of the numerous identical wall clocks that hung up on the wall of almost every corridor there was in the academy. 12:26. there was still half of lunch left, and I had nearly twenty five minutes to kill. The mid-day period passed slowly, and for once, I wasn't as thrilled about that as I would have customarily been on a regular day.

Taking advantage of the quietness, I let my mind wander. The Rogue went out to look for a kill despite the fact that I hadn't given him one. He didn't let anything get in his way, didn't let anything stop him, especially not me. I thought back to the three lives that were lost, all within a month. He killed them, and that made him a monster; but I had something to do with it. Did that make _me_ a monster?

_No, _I shuddered. _Stop thinking about that. In fact, stop thinking at all. _The longer I thought about things, the worse each conclusion got. _Just stop, _I told myself.

Suddenly, the subdued sounds of footfalls reached my ears, light thuds coming down from the top of the stairs. Unconsciously, to give enough space, I moved to the side—an act that was rather pointless, considering the stairway was as wide as the hall itself, and seven people simultaneously side-by-side could have easily pass through if need-be. Leaning against the banister, I waited for the person to pass by.

They never did.

Instead, I felt the presence approach, and soon in the corner of my eye a figure plopped down on the steps as well.

Turning my head, surprise shot through me. After all, it was out of my expectations to see Sasuke seated beside me; certainly that fell into a column with the heading: unexpected. As if that weren't mind-boggling enough, in his grip was a can of Pepsi, which he wordlessly presented to me with a lazy outstretched arm. I stared at him, at his waiting expression, and then down at the can, which also seemed to be in wait. It took a minute or so of bland staring at the blue entity before I realized that I was supposed to _take_ the can; that he was _giving _it to me.

I blinked, stunned, yet at the same time I felt a little stupid. And then as that feeling passed, suspicion ignited in the back of my head. I narrowed my eyes at Sasuke in a doubtful manner. "Is it poisoned?"

He sighed with what seemed to be exasperation, as though he was dealing with a six year old instead of someone already sixteen, and demanded, "Just take it."

Rolling my eyes, I snatched the soda from his hand. Before I lifted a hand to open it however, my motions came to a halt, and again I shot him another fleeting glance. "Did you like, spit in it?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes; "No. We're in a truce, remember?"

"Right." I muttered, turning away from him as I attempted to open the can, knowing unconsciously that the attempt would fail—it did. Opening pop cans was a weakness of mine; for some imprudent, unknown reason, I purely could not do so. Whether I held it wrong or the effort I exerted was not enough, I didn't know.

Sasuke saw my struggle in an instant (but of course: spotting out all my flaws was his specialty, just as recognizing _his _flaws were _my _specialty) and seized the can from my hand. He held the tip and was about to open it when he halted and turned to me, "Did you shake it?"

"We're in a truce, remember?" I mimicked.

For the second time, he rolled his eyes. "Childish." He muttered and in one quick motion, popped the can open and handed it back to me. I took it back without a moment's hesitation. I had to admit, I needed this; the drink, not the Uchiha's company. Or maybe I needed company as wellthat is not to say I necessarily needed his companionship, however.

"So, what's the catch?" At the blunt inquiry, Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "Please." I scoffed, "You can't have simply woken up this morning and decided 'I'll do something good for Sakura today!'"

He turned away, hiding his smirk that was barely visible, the corner of his lips curving ever so slightly—I guessed that was the closest to a smile the Uchiha could get—and asked in jest, "Is that so unbelievable?"

"Very." I answered. "Well?"

"Earlier, when I saw you, you looked..." He paused for an instant, pondering over his following words. Troubled? Upset? Saddened? "...like shit."

Well, I supposed that would work too. Even I had to admit that I wasn't in the prettiest state at the moment.

He shrugged, as if none of this was such a big deal. But the way I see it, it was. There was something wrong with this picture: Sasuke carrying out a good deed, for me of all people. If I wasn't so numb about the whole Moegi thing, I would've definitely flipped over. For now though, I was far too fatigued to make a case.

"So you get me a soda to make me feel better?" I asked.

"Is it working?" His reply was not a "yes" to my query, but, mentally, I took note that it wasn't a negative either. That small tug at the edge of his lips grew slightly wider, a little more visible. It was nice, his smile, or smirk, or whatever it was, despite the fact that he was barely even smiling (or smirking or whatever) at all. Unconsciously, I wondered how he would look with a full smile.

I took a sip, hiding the upturned arc that'd formed on my lips due to the image of Sasuke smiling in my head. "A little." I replied before my daydreams took me elsewhere, before I ended up looking dumb. Looking down at soda in my hand, I asked, "How'd you know I preferred Pepsi over Coke?"

"It's what you always drink for lunch."

"…you look at me?" I asked, startled yet amused.

"As if you don't at me."

"I don't." I defended.

"I've caught you." He looked at me tauntingly.

"Maybe I'm looking at someone else."

"Who? Gaara?" Gone was the lighthearted atmosphere in our conversation, just like that; and the playful tone he once had in his voice was instantly iced over with something more disdainful—hard and snide.

Taken back by this sudden alteration, I glanced sideways at him and found that his almost-smile-slash-smirk had disappeared as well, now replaced with what appeared to be his habitual straight-faced expression.

"What?" I asked, though I'd heard him crystal-clear the first time. I knew we couldn't last two minutes without erupting into arguments.

"Seems you've gotten to know him pretty well." He said, conversationally-fake, as one could audibly hear the displeasure in his voice (towards what, however, was another matter) "He did walk you home a dozen times, did he not?"

"Twice." I corrected him. "So?"

"You barely know him."

"I'll do what I want."

"Of course," He replied, "Princess." The excessive courtesy was insulting, a particular reaction which he probably intended to inflict in the first place. I glared at him, and I could tell he was about to taunt further when, out of the blue, he froze. His eyes hardened as they looked past my head towards something behind me.

Whipping around, I followed his gaze and found my eyes landing on Sai, who had just turned around the corner, and was fast-approaching where Sasuke and I were currently seated. He was the only person in the hall, as far as I could see, so there was no way Sasuke could've been looking at someone else. A sarcastic mutter of _"Perfect"_ from under the Uchiha's breath had me turning back to him.

"He's not that bad," I said, referring to Sai. At my statement, Sasuke scoffed soundly. When he replied only with silence, I kept on, "You know… you and Sai are so much more alike than you both would ever admit."

"We're nothing alike." He snapped sharply. "The guy's a robot. He has no emotion."

_And you do? _I almost blurted out loud, but quickly my mind caught up and I bit my lip; Sasuke and I were almost nearly in good terms at the moment, and I didn't want any careless side-remarks of mine to ruin that. So instead, I asked, "What do you mean?" but to that, he only shook his head mutely.

"What do you have against each other?" I asked, whispering now, as Sai was nearing. Sasuke shrugged. I rolled my eyes at the unresponsive response. "You can't hate on someone without a reason. That's ridiculous."

"I just don't like the guy, okay?" He uttered, "There's just something about him."

At a loss and confused, I tilted my head and was about to ask another question when I noticed Sai advance toward us in my peripheral vision. Beside me, I felt Sasuke stiffen. Shaking my head, I let the subject drop; and then turned to smile at our oncoming visitor.

"Hey Sai." I greeted.

Courteously, he bowed his head, "Hello Sakura," and then turning to Sasuke next to me, he addressed icily, "Sasuke."

"Sai."

I looked at them, back and forth, and couldn't help but sigh. I pictured Sai and Sasuke both as the same side of a magnet. Alike, but repellent to each other. They were comparable in countless ways they would never admit to. Their resemblance stretched out not only in appearance—they looked the same, and they might as well have been brothers; though I couldn't help but make a mental note that Sasuke was… a little more good-looking—but in terms of personality as well. Though unmistakably similar, nearly identical, their characters clashed and collided.

"Sakura," Sai called, breaking my train of thought. "We should get going. We've got Art next, together." At the last part, I caught Sai give Sasuke a mischievous look, and I had a feeling that last sentence wasn't directed to me.

"Yeah?" was all Sasuke's reply.

"Sure, we should go." I said, standing up, and noticed students beginning to fill up the Business wing, heading off to their classes. The bell must've rung without me noticing. I had to get to class. I turned back to Sasuke, who had fallen in silence ever since Sai came along, and who, for some reason, remained stationary, unmoving—as if he didn't have any class to get to before the second bell rang; that or he just didn't mind being late.

I was surprised to find him looking straight at me from where he sat on the steps, watching, waiting to see what I'd do; in his gaze I could almost see him willing to make me stay, almost, but of course that was only the product of sheer imagination. In reality, Sasuke's face was completely blank.

"I'll… see you around." I told Sasuke, who merely bobbed his head in a stiff fashion.

When I was certain he no longer had anything else to say, I turned my back wordlessly on Sasuke and walked away with Sai.

Why was Sasuke being so moody? I supposed being around Sai made him like that, but why? I predicted it was some male arch-rivalry sort of thing; probably something stupid and stubborn and pointless. Besides, Sasuke was wrong. As I walked beside Sai, who was silent and smiling, always smiling—I admired that about him—and who was always courteous (at least when he wasn't being a jerk) I knew right then that Sasuke was mistaken. There was nothing wrong with Sai. And though I admit Sasuke ranked a little higher on the appearance scale, I was certain Sai was nicer. Sasuke and I having a truce did not mean I had to forget about our past, and knowing what Sasuke was capable of doing, I knew Sai wasn't as bad as he was. All-smiling Sai would never smash someone's head on the pavement and send someone to a coma. That was Sasuke; the untamed, uncontrollable side to him—I hadn't forgotten it in the least. And how could I?

But as I turned and risked a glance back at Sasuke, seeing him sit there, his fingers laced under his nose and his elbows propped on his knees, wordless and unmoving, looking at me expectantly, seeming to have shrunk in the midst of the busy crowd that quickly filled up the area around him, I did forget, almost. No longer was he tall and intimidating; presently, he looked no more than a lost boy, one who somehow expected me to turn back.

And I almost wished I hadn't just left him there.

* * *

**Unknown**

He watched her through the glass from afar; though despite the distance, he saw her emotions as though she was right there in front of him. Fear, guilt, nausea, repulsion, all those sensations clear as a crystal; it fed his satisfaction.

Then, all too soon, the show was over; and shortly the girl was running towards his direction, heading for the school, and silently, he stepped out of sight.

He moved mechanically, without thought, as he headed for the desk upfront. From the pen holder, he grabbed a set of keys, picked one, and unlocked the top right drawer, revealing a thick pile of navy blue books. He skimmed through them all, searching for that one specific name he had in mind. Finally, one caught his eye; pulling it out, he placed it on the desk.

His long, artistic fingers lightly traced the name on the right hand corner:

_Haruno Sakura, Year 11, Block D_

_Ring!_

Quickly, he retracted his hand. That was the first bell. _Damnit. _He had lost track of time. People would be here soon. He had to get this over with.

In one quick motion he flipped open the sketchpad, placed the insert and closed it shut. He put notebook back in the drawer, which he locked and left the keys where he'd found them

Then, silent as a shadow, he slipped out of the room.

* * *

_Author's Note: Ah, the infamous chapter 19! My rewritten chapter. I can't recall the original one, but I'm hoping this turned out better._

_**Read, Review and Thank You! **__Your comments make me smile; it reminds me just how much I love writing. Thanks everyone, for all the support. If I could give you all cookies, or cyberhugs, I would._

_Forever grateful,  
Keelah_

_Tori:__ Jeez, spelling error! On a rather important line too. Stupid me. ahahha I'd have to fix that. Spell check's doing an awful job. lol nywayz, thank you so much for your corrections!! I appreciate it._

_You lazy person:__ lol Actually, you're VERY close. Kind of. It's a bit more complicated, but you're closer than a lot of other people. & how did you know my driving sucked? LOL All my friends think I'm gonna run over someone everytime I get behind the wheel. & I appreciate you reviewing even if you were on hiatus. Means a lot. =] & I can't write without a comp too, so I know what you mean._


	21. Blank Perfection

**Instant Message  
****By "Keelah"**

* * *

_I could almost imagine it, the hand..._

_As it scrawled the words skilfully across the page... graceful and yet... _

_With a motive so eerily sinister._

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter TWENTY  
_**Blank Perfection**_

I sat frozen in my seat, my fingers clamping onto the edges of the stool, tighter and harder with every second that passed, turning my knuckles white in the process. It was as though all my muscles contracted, preventing me to move, to turn away just like I so badly wanted. But my neck was stiff and my eyes seemed permanently glued onto the paper before me; no matter how much I tried looking away, I simply couldn't.

From the moment our teacher, Kurenai, had stood up from her desk in the beginning of the class to hand out our sketchbooks, the moment she had pulled those wide and thin blue books out of her table drawer, the moment she carried them and began walking down the aisle, I noticed instantly that something was out of place. Immediately I spotted my art journal jammed in the pack along with the others of the class. Everyone had a similar sketchbook; same colour and design, identical shape and size, and the same-looking Academy logo imprinted on the back: several leaves forming an arch, framing what was in the center of the circle, which was Konoha's spiral-like logo. Perhaps the only difference about the books that distinguished each of our own from the rest was our name written on the inside covers.

Yet even with all the similarities, and the small, barely visible difference, I could easily pick out from the pile the sketchbook that was mine from the dangling pink bead in a shape of a cherry blossom petal, which was tied on a string attached to the top of the bookmark I used for this class. That certain bookmark made mine easy-to-spot, as I always did.

But just as quickly as I identified the sketchbook, I noticed the piece of paper that stuck out from in between its pages. Kurenai hated loose-leaf papers that fell around everywhere when she marks, and I hated being disorganized; so a piece of paper, though barely sticking out from my pad, threatening to slip out any second, was definitely considered out of place.

I stared at the paper, wondering what it might be. Perhaps it was a note from the teacher, or a random misplaced scrap. It could've been anything. Yet the longer I thought about it, the longer I stared, wondering about all the possible things it could be—a note from the teacher, a misplaced scrap piece of paper—I began to grow anxious as a little voice in the back of my head told me it was something worse.

The foreboding feelings stuck until Kurenai came by our table and handed me my blue book. Habitually, it was programmed in my system to say "thanks", being raised with manners. This time however, I was too busy staring at a sheet of paper to even remember anything about etiquette, dumb as that sounds. Kurenai passed by and I remained sitting there, mute.

A moment passed and the sound of soft chattering filled the room. For the first fifteen or so minutes of class, all we did was draw in our journals, of anything and everything, and we were allowed to chat, so long as we did the work. And as the class did just that, I was snapped back to my senses; almost reluctantly, I followed everyone else. Reaching out, I flipped the book open.

Whether I intended it or was by pure coincidence, I did not know. All I knew was that the book had automatically opened to the page where the piece of paper was, inserted loosely in the middle of the sketchbook. For the longest moment, I stared, unable to move, as I read what it said.

_**Liked my surprise?**_

_**Seemed like you did, judging from your reaction at the sight of the dead girl. **_

─_**R.**_

I reviewed the words over and over, until it was wholly embossed on my brain that I need not look on the paper anymore to know what it said. It was no surprise he had been watching me; I already knew he was when he had given me a call then. But the idea that he had been here in the same room I was in at the moment, just several minutes earlier, made me uncomfortable. The idea that he had touched my sketchbook, touched the same pages I drew on every day, with the same hands that had killed three other people, made me uneasy. These books were stored in the top right drawer of the teacher's desk, which Kurenai kept locked at all times—a pretty futile deed, considering she placed the key in the pen and pencil mug holder situated just atop the desk. I didn't know how many people knew that, though; not a lot, probably, but quite a few. I fell in the "quite-a-few" column, but so did the Rogue, it seemed. That idea made me fidgety.

These kinds of facts—how he'd been in the very same room I was right now, just a few minutes before I entered, how he'd laid hands on the very same book that was before me, how he knew where Kurenai hid her desk's keys just as I did—the kinds that linked me to the Rogue, kept me at the edge of my seat. It proved more so that he was real; he felt so close, everywhere, yet just so out of reach. And knowing that he was right in front of me, yet under the radar, barely perceptible, was torturous. He knew me yet, to me, he was none but a stranger. I was, without a doubt, at the disadvantage.

I turned and looked at the window, hoping there was something outside that could serve as a diversion. However, the only thing I saw through the glass was the same park, the same playground, where I found Moegi. It gave a clear view of the area, a perfect angle, and right then I knew where the Rogue had been watching. He'd been here the whole time and stood perhaps by the window I was presently looking out of.

Suddenly, sharing the same perspective with the Rogue made me feel even closer to him, as though he was almost beside me. I turned away, only to have my gaze land back to the dreadful note. I stared at it.

The words were written out in perfect script, so accurate it seemed almost a computerized penmanship. Only the slight difference in the same letters, how some R's curved more than others or how F's flicked off at the bottom while some did not, indicated that it was written by hand.

There was something about the note however, its abruptness, the careless manner in which the leaf was inserted loosely in the book, indicating this was written in haste. I could almost imagine it, the hand, holding a thin, fine-lined pen as it scrawled the words skilfully across the page. The act was hurried, yet graceful, making it look as though it was simply effortless to write perfectly. I could see a hand unconsciously flawless, a hand with a mind of its own.

Graceful and yet, from the words that flowed from its owner's mind, past the arm, down the hand, through the pen and onto the paper, with a motive so eerily sinister. The thought of it had me shuddering.

"Hey." A voice called out, breaking through my reverie. Robotically, I turned and faced Sai, who watched me with a questioning eye. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, letting out a weak "Yeah."

Sai, who probably hadn't heard my inaudible response, went on, "You have this odd look on your face"

"I'm fine." I uttered, louder this time, though I was unable to meet his gaze.

"Want to tell me about it?" I shook my head, "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be okay. Don't look so petrified, hag. It's making you uglier." The criticism was his form of affection. Beside me, I could feel him smirk, though I kept my eyes glued on the table. I knew he was trying to lighten up the mood, which surprised me, really, that Sai would even care.

I shook my head. "You don't get it."

"Of course I don't." He retorted sharply, "'Cause you're not telling me anything." He paused, the silence stretching out for several seconds as I waited for him to continue. After a moment, he spoke in a low whisper, much softer and gentler, "You can tell me, you know. You can trust me. Everything will turn out okay."

I took a quick glance at Sai and found him smiling at me, kind and comforting. With his strong-set jaw and straight, pearly white teeth that was comparable to a supermodel's, his smile was... perfect. But there was something about its nothingness that caught my attention; as though it was practiced a thousand times over in front of a mirror, making it seem almost... hollow.

Almost...

Empty.

* * *

"Sakura!" at the sound of my name, I quickly dumped the last of the pieces of paper before turning around to face Ino, jogging over at my direction. She glanced at the garbage can.

"Scrap." I explained, sidestepping to block her view, just in case any part of the message still showed. "From Art."

"Figures." She shrugged, "That class had always wastes paper."

"And since when did _you_ become a tree-hugger?" I inquired as we walked down the hallway, farther and farther from the garbage bin where I had disposed of the Rogue's note—that was, of course, after I'd torn it to pieces.

"Since I found out the boy of my dreams is a nature-lover." Ino replied, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world—which it was, in a way, considering this wasIno, and no drastic change (such as: all of a sudden turning into a lover of nature) would take place in her unless triggered by a boy. In other words, I should've known the pineapple-head Ino was crushing on like a little elementary girl had something to do with this. "Here," she said, shoving me against a window. "Check him out. Over there, by the field. He's watching the clouds. I'm telling you, he's a nature-lover."

I looked out the glass and instantly spotted him, sprawled idly on the grass, looking up at the sky. Uninterested, I let my gaze merely pass him and scanned the rest of the guys scattered across the field along with their dogs. Out of the blue, Ino gave a sigh of fake disappointment.

"I told you to check out Shikamaru." She piped up with a scolding tone that reminded me of my mother (although I couldn't imagine Mom telling me to check out some boy); her tone had a hint of wit to it that I didn't like. "Not look for Uchiha Sasuke."

"Who says I was looking for him?" I snapped, and then glanced back toward the field, "He's not even there."

Ino's face turned mischievous. "A-hah! You noticed."

I scoffed and turned away, before halting in my tracks. "By the way," I said over my shoulder, "I don't think your dream guy's a nature-lover. I think he's just a lazy bum."

"Whatever!" I heard her call from behind me, clearly enjoying my torment. "You're just upset you didn't see Sasuke!"

"Am not!" I shouted back and stomped away, knowing, in the back of my mind, that she was right. Where was Sasuke? He appears when I don't expect him, and disappears when I do expect to see him. I wasn't _upset, _though I was barely, just a little, very slightly... _disappointed_.

A little later, out of curiousity, I looked up the word "disappointed" in the thesaurus.

It's synonyms included "let down", "dissatisfied" and, much to my dismay, the word _"upset"_ was part of the list as well.

* * *

A little white envelope, about a fourth of a regular bond paper, lay on the floor of my front porch: something I took note of when I got back home from school. Half of it was inserted underneath the front door, covering part of the writing on the envelope—though I didn't need to pull it out to know it said "Sakura".

I looked around, scanning for what, I wasn't really sure; but it calmed me to see the block empty. Cautiously, I bent down and picked up the envelope.

_Sakura_

It said my name on the front, and seeing the familiar perfection in the handwriting, I instantly knew who it was from. Unconsciously, I opened the front door and let myself in, deciding whether or not to open the note. A moment later, I found myself ripping open the envelope, curiosity getting the best of me.

Inside was a piece of paper. And on the piece of paper, with the same identical calligraphy reading:

_You ripped my message to pieces. Then threw it away. _

_That isn't very nice, now, is it?_

Without thinking, I crumpled the sheet and threw it in the garbage.

* * *

The Hidden Leaves Academy had always been, in my opinion, too crowded for a private school. Despite its size, the four buildings, the campus' square-kilometre dimension, spacious interior and wide-set corridors never seemed quite enough and still managed to seem full. The hallways were overfilling, and the student count in each class ran up to thirty sometimes.

For the over population of the school, I blamed the board of directors for taking out the limit of enrolees. There used to be a maximum of students the school took in, and a cut-off point of twenty-five students per class. Plus the scholarships: a free full-year enrolment in the academy to especially nerdy kids (as Naruto liked to call them) who couldn't quite afford the ten-grand tuition but nevertheless deserved its high quality education.

Then there were the guys from the special program the Academy was sponsoring; Sasuke's group, who were about an additional thirty to the school's population. Needless to say, the school was filled to capacity beyond comfort.

Hallways were the worst. Imagine your block A on one side of the school, and then your block B on the opposite side, more than half a kilometre away. Between you and your next class is a maze of stairs, corridors and a human obstacle course made up of two thousand students trying to get to their destination. Five minutes to get through that jungle. Rather frustrating and inconvenient, isn't it?

And then: the cafeteria; long line-ups, packed almost skin-to-skin with the people around me. What a perfect day.

I heard a shout of my name, a faint "Sakura!" reaching my ears, barely audible over the crowds' chatters. I looked up and around, scanning over the heads in search for whoever had been calling me.

"Sakura! Sakura!"

More shouts, deafening me, despite the fact that it could barely be heard over the noise inside the caf. It didn't take long before I found what, or rather who, I was looking for. Of course, a hyperactive blonde squeezing through the crowd, literally bouncing his way towards my direction was relatively hard not to notice. I stood unmoving in my spot as I watched Naruto budge through the line, causing a wave of complaints and curses he so obliviously ignored as he came up beside me.

Thinking he only came to budge, I was surprised when he suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the line. "Let's go!"

"Naruto!" I cried out, tugging my hand free, though my attempts were futile against his strong, persistent grip. "I need to eat, you know!"

"Screw the line, I went out and bought ramen!" grinning proudly, he pulled me towards our usual table, where the rest of my friends sat with several cups of noodles scattered in the table before them.

I turned to Naruto, "_You _bought ramen?"

He scratched the back of his head in a sheepish manner, "Well, using Ino's and Lee's money combined. But hey, I'm drove all the way to Ichiraku!"

"Which is just on the next block." Ino interrupted, "We went thirty something on the food and you spend about a cent on gas."

"It's more than that!"

Choosing to ignore the bickering, I plopped down onto a chair and grabbed my own cup. Usually, I'd join them and their pointless arguments and chitchats, but today I hadn't the vigour. Quietly, I opened the cup and dropped my bag on the vacant seat beside me. It missed the chair, the contents spilling out and scattering on the ground.

"Oh shoot," I muttered under my breath. Checking my bag, I found the front pocket zipper left open. Grudgingly, I collected my stuff: pens, lip gloss, compact, wallet, cell, iPod—stuffing them all carelessly back inside. Just as I was doing so, something caught my eye.

Along with my things was a little folded paper; strange, for I didn't recall ever shoving scrap paper in my book bag. What I do remember though, was zipping the front pocket close just before I left Graphics, my last class prior to lunch, and I couldn't remember anytime following that where I zipped it open again.

I picked up the sheet of paper and turned it over, finding my name, for the second time, written in perfect penmanship. In a mechanical-like manner, I unfolded the paper.

_Where were you last night? You weren't online. You left me waiting. _

_I hate waiting. Have I ever told you that Sakura?_

—_R._

Another note. The third one now.

"Sakura." Startled, I looked up, hiding the note under the table, out of sight, and faced Naruto. "Your face is pale."

"I _am _light-skinned, you know." I replied, dead-panned. "I'm fine." I dismissed. Under the table, I fiddled with the note, wondering how it got in my bag, even though the answer flashed in clear neon colours in the back of my mind. It had been _him _who put the note in the pocket of my bag, just as he'd managed to put that insert in my art sketchbook. I hadn't stuffed any loose-leaf paper inside my bag in my prior class, and now here it was, about ten minutes later, so he must've done it in between. But within those ten minutes, I'd been just about everywhere, from the computer lab, to my locker, where I walked among countless of students, and then headed here, to the cafeteria, bumping against just about hundreds of other people. The Rogue could have just easily been one of that hundred; opening the pocket of my bag, slipping in the piece of paper and walking away without zipping it back close could have easily been done within a matter of seconds, effortless and unnoticeable with his skilful hands at work.

It was all too possible, and I accepted the hypothesis, yet what I couldn't take in was how close the Rogue had been to me, yet was able to stay under the radar. We had breathed the same air, and I didn't even know. I had no idea.

Warily, I looked around, scanning the cafeteria. He could've done it while I stood waiting in line. Yet over half the school population ate in the cafeteria, and there was no way to narrow it down. He could be that loner who always ate alone, and had the whole table to himself, or one of the egoistic jocks, or the occasional smoker who always escaped out the back door from the supervisors. He could be anyone.

"Who are you looking for?" Naruto, for the second time, broke my train of thoughts. He was grinning, looking at me just as everyone in our table was doing. Suddenly feeling self-conscious from all the stares, I stopped looking around so much.

"Who says I'm looking for anyone?" I questioned back.

"Oh I know who she's looking for." Ino smiled, sly and knowing; and I glared at her, telepathically telling her to shut up. "...a certain boy named Uchiha Sasuke." Obviously, she didn't get my message. That, or she merely chose to ignore it. And I'm guessing it's the latter.

Naruto's eyes grew wide. "Sasuke?"

"Who's _that_?"Chouji asked, who stopped only for about a second to talk, and then went right back to eating once again.

"Sasuke Uchiha." Ten-Ten stated, "Part of the _bad boys_. The one always with the husky dog. You know, with the spikes similar to a chicken?"

"He hangs out with my cousin a lot." Hinata whispered, though knowing her, the low volume was already one of her loudest.

"Oh _that _dude?" Chouji exclaimed. "He's the guy with the major bangs."

"Bingo." Ten-Ten said.

"Scary." Chouji muttered under his breath.

"Why are you looking for Sasuke?" Naruto questioned, evidently puzzled, as if me looking for the Uchiha was the most illogical thing of all—which, I had to admit, was.

"I'm not—"

"Oh, don't you know?" Ino slurred, interrupting as though she was the one asked, despite the fact that Naruto had so clearly directed the question to me. Ino, oblivious to my glares, and loving the attention everyone around the table had given her, smiled and continued, "She and Sasuke are tight. They go way back."

Naruto, with eyes now wider than before, turned to me, "I never knew you guys knew each other that well."

"We don't."

"But Ino said—"

"We knew each other, barely, back in middle school. That's it."

"But now they're real close." Ino interrupted once more.

"Not." I snapped back. "He disappeared. Never saw him again till now. The end."

"I never knew." Naruto exclaimed in disbelief. "I mean, Sasuke and I are pretty good friends you know, ever since they came here to HLA, but I never knew you and him were even closer—"

"We're not, Naruto." I corrected him. "Sasuke's no one."

"A very special no one." Ino grinned. I rolled my eyes wordlessly, saying no more as I was too lazy to argue the pointless argument. I've got more things to worry about, for instance, the note in my hand hidden underneath the table, which I'd been fiddling for nearly the whole lunch hour now.

"...Sakura?"

"Yes?"

"Do you even know what I said?" I nodded blankly. "What is up with you?"

"Nothing." Ever so slowly, as inconspicuous as I could make it, I shoved the note deep in the pocket of my sweatshirt, out of sight. I'd just have to deal with that later. "Sorry, I didn't hear you." I looked at them, at the pairs of questioning eyes, and smiled brightly. "So what were you fighting about?"

Ino explained, babbling on and on as she bickered against Chouji; and for the rest of lunch, things went by as it regularly did.

I'd fooled them, and I was off the hook in answering their curious questions.

For now, at least.

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

He placed a comforting arm around the waist of the sobbing girl seated beside him.

"And he wouldn't stop, Sasuke... he wouldn't stop." She spat out, angry and frustrated and helpless and hurting all at the same time. He knew the feeling. He knew it all too well.

The other guys had left them alone, hanging a few feet away to give them, or her, some privacy that she needed at the moment. More often than not they'd made fun of her, being the only girl in the group; but this time, they didn't, because this time, the situations were different, and they knew what she was going through.

That was something they all had in common, something that tied them together. They all knew what hell was like; each one of them has experienced living in it firsthand. Silently, he tightened his hold on her. It was one of the few times he let her get close to him nowadays, because at the moment she needed someone to turn to. Because no matter how irritatingly persistent she was at times, bottom line is, he was there for her—as a colleague, at least. In fact, except maybe the one person he despised the most (namely, Gaara), and the other that he simply did not trust (namely, Sai), he'd be there for any of the guys, 'cause they were all pretty much a team. Them, against the world.

"Don't you just hate it?" she said bitterly, "How everything's going downhill and you just can't do anything about it but watch?"

"Yeah." Sasuke responded in a low voice. Then, sighing, she let her head fall on his shoulder. He didn't resist; no need for that. He let her snuggle up against him.

In spite of this, he couldn't shake off the thought that she didn't even fit in his arms, her body not anywhere near compatible to his. She was a little... wide, not that he was calling her fat, but she had always been a little too well-developed for a girl. It didn't feel right, her being this close to him, and it wasn't long before he found himself thinking of someone else, someone with a lighter shade of hair than the girl in his arms, someone who had bigger eyes and a brighter smile—and someone who was a little smaller than the girl currently next to him, who probably would've fit in his embrace if ever tested... not that he wanted to know. Never.

_Damn it, _he thought, shutting his eyes to block the unwanted, newly-formed ideas in his head. Him with _her_? The mere contemplation of it already had him shuddering from repugnance. So why had the idea come up? _Damn it, _he thought again.

In the same moment he heard noises, more than the occasional engine sounds of a car passing by. Voices chattering, growing louder as they got nearer. Initially, he thought it to be only random people walking by.

That was, until he heard, "Hey, isn't that Sasuke?" He knew that voice; it was that loudmouth's, Naruto, who he often saw and was with at HLA, whenever his group mixed with their PE class. "Hey Sas—_OW!_"

Immediately, upon coming to this realization, and curious about the blonde's voice's sudden appearance, Sasuke looked up and scanned the sidewalk. It didn't take all that long to spot the dimwit, who presently pouted as he held the side of his head, and who was standing a few meters away across the street.

...and who, at the present moment, had his arm around a certain someone, who just happened to be the subject of Sasukes prior thoughts—a certain brat he'd been silently, secretly, and unconsciously wishing to see.

_

* * *

_

A/n: Freakin' FFnet won't let me center the titles. Ugh.

This chapter was written by hand! When my computer broke, I didn't want to slip into another hiatus, so I grabbed a pen & paper & wrote. You should see the draft. Scribbles & arrows all over the place, all eight pages of them, back to back. My hand ached, but it was cool. I got to write whenever and wherever without needing a computer.

_Nywayz! Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Years. As always, the end of the Semester is nearing, and I'm getting a B in Physics. This is usually about the time I'd go "I'll be focusing on school for awhile, so no update" etc etc...BUT. I wrote like, basically SIX chapters, over 24 000 words, during the_ _winter break. So yeah, that's NO HIATUS for you guys. ;) You're welcome._

_Once again, **Read, Review and Thank You! **I appreciate the patience & the comments/feedbacks._

_Sincerely,  
__Keelah_


	22. Introductions

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_[She] and I are just friends."_

"_With benefits?"_

"_No." he replied patiently… as if he were explaining to a six-year-old child rather than someone who was actually sixteen._

_Then, gently, he said, "It's not what it looked like. Don't worry about it."_

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY-ONE  
**__**Introductions**_

"...just showed up out of nowhere and let Akamaru off the leash, and then Akamaru went straight for Chouji, 'cause he was like, eating chips again, duh; and Akamaru just totally grabbed the bag out of his hands and ran away and Chouji began chasing him around and it was hilarious! And then the teacher came back and he got so mad about having a dog inside the class so he called up Kakashi and Kakashi came and so Kiba had to go back to his own class—if they're even called a class. It's weird, don't you think? And unfair. They go around training dogs all day 'cause it's somehow supposed to help them with their self-control, while we're stuck inside reading math textbooks that we're never gonna remember past the year anyway. I think we should..."

"Remind me again why we're walking with this guy?" Ino muttered grudgingly.

"Because," I answered, "he's going to the Square for project materials. And it's on our way. Besides, you're the one who was all 'he _so _can't go with us', which Naruto heard as 'he so _can _go with us' after which he appreciatively agreed."

Ino groaned, frustrated as she slammed her locker shut. "Don't remind me."

"You just _told _me to remind you." I exclaimed at her, as the three of us walked down the hallway. Ino and I hung a little bit behind, a safe foot away from the loudmouthed boy babbling away up front.

"Yeah well, you weren't supposed to!" she cried, "You should've known that by 'remind me again' I actually really didn't want you to remind me again."

"I'm not psychic. How the heck should I have known that? I don't know what goes on in your head."

"Well you should! We've been friends since like, middle school. You should know how to read my mind by now, just like I read yours. But, of course, that may be because you're always so transparent."

I narrowed my eyes. "So not."

"So are."

"Are you guys even listening?" we both turned to see Naruto, his arms crossed as he leaned against the glass doors, blocking the exit.

"Yes, Naruto," Ino replied monotonously, "We were."

"What was I saying then?" he challenged, thus I repeated a much-shortened version of his endless story. Chouji chasing a dog. Kiba getting in trouble. Naruto wanting to go play with dogs instead of reading textbooks. I recalled it all.

Naruto grinned, satisfied. "Exactly."

"Okay, we passed your test. Now move." demanded Ino, pushing past him as she headed out the door. Sending a considerate smile towards Naruto, I followed after Ino past the threshold and onto the elevated veranda of the entryway. In an instant, the warmth of the school's centralized heating left my body, and I was met by the chilly afternoon breeze of Konoha in autumn, though considering the finger-numbing, cheeks-reddening, nose-stinging temperature, it might as well have already been winter.

Naruto appeared beside me and, shoving both his hands in his pockets, grumbled in my ear, "I can't believe you're even friends with her." I didn't need to see his nod towards Ino to know he was talking about her.

"She says the same thing about you." I told him, laughing lightly, as we turned around the corner farther and farther away from the school.

"I honestly prefer hanging out with Hinata over her," groused Naruto.

I rolled my eyes, grinning meaningfully at him. "Naruto, you'd prefer Hinata over _any_one." I pointed out, expecting him to flush instantly. Instead of blushing however, the blonde, buoyant lad merely grinned.

"Not you." He joked, though I knew he meant nothing by it.

"Of course," I replied shortly, rolling my eyes for the second time as I let him sling an arm loosely around my shoulders, as he had always done so playfully when we were twelve.

"Great job leaving me out of the conversation," Ino suddenly remarked.

"You were the one who pulled a diva and walked away." Naruto retorted; and in shock, Ino gawked. She remained like that for another second or two, before regaining her composure and turning to me with a scowl on her face.

"Shut him up."

"_You _shut up." Naruto rejoined.

"You guys are giving me a headache." I complained, rubbing the temples of my forehead.

"She started it!" Naruto announced immaturely.

"Whatever. You're just as annoying as Chouji."

The other pedestrians meandering along with us on the sidewalk began to stop and stare. "Cut it out, you two." I muttered as I urged my feet to move at a faster pace, in dragging, in the process, Naruto—whose arm still locked around my neck, thus gagging me to a point of suffocation.

We were nearing the Square, perhaps the only place in uptown Konoha that was not residential, which meant there were more people bustling around here than any other place in the area. Along the way, Naruto had once again managed to launch into another one of his stories (as if there was a certain need for him to tell us everything that had happened that day, as if Ino and I wore a sign on our foreheads that just screamed 'tell us more'), rambling along on my right-hand side. Meanwhile, not very dissimilarly, on my left was Ino going on and on about everything her eyes set upon, each article in every store that we bypassed. How cute that top was, or how hideous those shoes were, or how she loved that necklace or how ugly that color was.

Both were talking to me, and I supposed the two of them must've automatically assumed I was listening (though concentrating on both of them at the same time was impossibly, inhumanly difficult) however none of it registered in my mind. Their words merely went in one ear and out the other. Having the two loudest friends for the past four or five years, I've learned to tune out their chitchats, even when they had tantrums of words just spilling out of their mouths. I've learned to pick out only the keywords to able to response to them, in any case that they expected some kind of reply. That, though, was a rare circumstance.

I focused my gaze on the ground, idly watching the cement before it disappeared beneath my steps. I couldn't help but notice my shoes; I'd worn runners today, but I was beginning to regret my choice of footwear. It seemed to be getting colder by the minute, and the cold easily seeped through the cotton and rubber material of my shoes. I should've worn boots.

A shot of wind whipped at us as we rolled around a corner. I balled my hands into fists, fingers numb and stinging from the cold as I shoved them inside my sweater's pocket. In doing so, against my fingertips I felt what seemed like paper, and instantly I remembered: the note.

I almost forgot about it, and the fact that it was still with me. Should I dispose of it? But what good would it do, to crumple it or rip it to pieces, when his messages would still keep coming? But on the other hand, what good did it do in keep them? I couldn't possibly show it to anyone. If I kept it, sooner or later, someone was bound to get a hold of the message and ask questions, questions that I'd have to answer, which I wouldn't be able to do, not honestly.

So it was settled then. I'd get rid of it. In fact, I would do it right now, if only I could lay back a little bit behind Ino and Naruto and, once I'd made sure they couldn't see me, toss the piece of paper onto a garbage can and—"Hey! Isn't that Sasuke?"

I shot my head up. Following Naruto's gaze, across the street several metres away, beside a convenient store, I immediately spotted Sasuke, sitting on the curb with an arm wrapped tightly around some girl.

Some girl, who, I realized a moment later, just happened to be Karin.

I frowned, taking in the scene that was before me. I thought he disliked—"Hey Sas—!" Oh crap. Whirling around, my palm impulsively smacked the back of Naruto's head, triggered by an automatic reaction. "_OW!_ Sakura! Why did you—?"

"Let's go." Risking a glance across the street, I watched in horror as Sasuke lifted his head up in slow motion. He scanned the sidewalk for a few moments before resting his gaze directly on our spot, on me. I ducked to hide, and as I turned back to Naruto the command spurted out of my panicking lips: "Now."

I'd only taken a step forward when Ino called out, "But—!"

"We're leaving." I stated determinedly, hoping the demand would somehow clue them in my mental desperation to get out of there and get their immobile stubborn selves to move. Instead of that though, her eyebrows only furrowed, looking confused; but her puzzlement only lasted a second. Ino's eyes shifted over to where Sasuke and his posse were sitting, flickered back at me, then at Sasuke and Karin, and then back. All without a reason, her gaze softened in an understanding manner.

"Oh."

"'Oh' what?" I asked impatiently. She replied with nothing, only presenting an unneeded sympathetic smile, rooted still in the same place.

I groaned out of sheer frustration. Turning, I left without a second's hesitation; I didn't bother to check whether Naruto and Ino had followed after me, I didn't even care if they had not. If they refuse to leave, fine; but I was so out of there.

Unconsciously, I walked even faster, mixing in with the crowd of pedestrians and shoppers. I kept my head low, as though that would make me less discernible, more camouflaged amid the moving mass.

Ino was unbelievable! I thought outrageously. I wanted to get out of there, fast, and she had known that all too well, yet what did she do in response? She stood there and gave me some kind of stupid "oh" look. So much for her so-called mind-reading abilities. According to her, we were supposed to have friend-to-friend mind-connections, weren't we? So why the hell had she just stood there when I so obviously wanted to bail—

A hand clasped around my wrist.

I thought of running, but the metal grip around my hand showed no sign of letting go, and in the same moment I was forced to turn around and meet my captor.

"Sakura. Hey."

Uchiha Sasuke gave me a onceover, his eyes glimmering with a sure sign of restrained amusement. I watched him as he watched me. He observed with searching eyes, as though he was trying to get inside my brain, as if I were something fascinating enough that was worthy of his attention.

It took me about ten or so seconds to realize I hadn't said anything, hadn't utter a mere word of response or any form of greeting, and suddenly the feeling of awkwardness was overwhelming. I opened my mouth to speak a single word: "Hi."

And off again we went to the Land of Each Other's Eyes. That sounded romantic, and in some perspective I suppose it was, but at the moment the scenario was nothing more than discomfited. At least for me it was. Sasuke did not appear too uncomfortable; in fact, he looked downright comfortable, most likely oblivious (or was he fully aware?) of my torment and writhing under his nerve-racking, sharp-eyed gaze.

After a few unbearable seconds of wordlessness, it occurred to me that regardless of the wasted seconds that passed, no matter the queer, strangely natural silence lying thickly between us, the Uchiha was not going to talk any time soon (which I found hardly fair, in view of the fact that he had been the one to approach me). Gathering up what was left of my pride, seeing that most had been lost in the moments where I'd openly gawked at him, I said, "So, it's… nice seeing you. But you should probably uh, go back to…" Before I could stop myself, my eyes flicked to the other side of the street where Karin sat, watching with a wary gaze, mistrustful and disapproving of our interaction, despite its fruitless property.

It was a mere, abrupt glance that any normal individual would have easily overlooked, but Sasuke (who've always proved to be anything _but_ normal) caught my careless side-glance and instantly followed my eyes.

Barely a second was over before his onyx pools returned to me, filled now with the same knowing look Ino had given me not a minute before, as if seeing Karin was somehow an answer to my sudden discomfort.

Out of the blue, as though he had been caught in some unrighteous act, he explained, "It's not what you think."

"I wasn't thinking anything."

"Karin and I are just friends."

"With benefits?" The words were out of my mouth long before I stop them. Sasuke frowned, visibly, at my hushed comment.

"No." He replied with a tone that was surprisingly patient, drawing out the two-letter word longer than it was generally pronounced, as if he were explaining to a six-year-old child rather than someone who was actually sixteen. "It's not what it looked like." He told me, slow and clear. "Don't worry about it."

Right. So his arm around Karin was not actually his arm around Karin, and the two of them cuddling in the middle of the sidewalk was not actually them cuddling in the middle of the sidewalk. Well, that didn't make much sense, now, did it, Sasuke?

"Okay." I said anyway. It wasn't my business, I figured.

We stood there, staring at each other. I didn't know how long the silence was this time, but it was him who spoke up and broke it. Much to my surprise, his hand slid down from my wrist until it was my actual hand he was holding, and gave it a light tug. "Come on."

"What?" I asked incredulously, taken back at the sudden invitation. "Where?"

He jerked his head towards the other side of the lane, where the rest of his posse hung about. "I'll introduce you."

My eyes travelled from Sasuke to the mob that lingered across the street. Though they were several meters away, I needed not a closer look to know they indicated "bullies" and did not need to be near to feel the anti-social vibe they brashly emitted. His little friends (who were, in fact, far from little) consisted of rough looking guys clothed in heavy black, lingering beside a grey discarded-looking convenient store that added onto the picture. A daunting enigmatic ambience suspended above them.

I looked at him disbelievingly, surprised he'd even come up with such an implausible idea. "I—!"

"It'll be fine." He insisted, foretelling my refusal. "They don't bite." Yeah, but I'm pretty sure they glared and punched and broke bones. But Sasuke showed no indication of giving up and I, as I wondered why he even persisted so much for me to meet them, began to give in.

"Sakura! Wait up!" We turned to see Naruto running up to us, with Ino at his tail. "Man, you guys walk fast."

"Your friends can come along." Sasuke offered, nodding towards the two, though I could easily pick out the reluctance in his voice.

Ino did too. She looked at me with a questioning gaze—questioning whether I wanted her to come, and I was just about to say I did, her eyes travelled down to my hand, which just happened to be presently enveloped in Sasuke's.

"No, it's fine!" she exclaimed with excessive enthusiasm, "We should get going."

"We do?" Naruto questioned, clearly out of the loop.

"Yes." Ino snapped. "We are going… to… uh, get coffee." She looked at me pointedly, and I got the message. "So yeah, bye!" We watched as Ino walked off, hauling Naruto by the collar.

A tug at my hand tore my attention away from the two blondes, and I looked up to see Sasuke's expectant gaze, his eyes almost glimmering like an eager child's. "Let's go." He pressed, and in that moment I knew I'd lost the battle. Resignedly, I let him haul me across the street.

If his friends looked scary from afar, they looked even scarier up-close. The nearer I got, the stronger the urge to run away became; in fact the only thing that stopped me from doing so was Sasuke's solid hold on my hand, determined to keep me in tow, as if he knew I would try to back out.

None of them seemed to notice us approaching, none except Karin whose gaze hadn't left us since Sasuke had followed after me. When finally we've reached their spot, Sasuke announced, "Hey, guys, this is Sakura."

I wasn't ready for his sudden proclamation; therefore I was utterly surprised when about half of them turned to look at me. I felt exposed and naked under their analyzing and judgmental inspections, their gazes all but friendly as they eyed my pristine pair of Pumas, designer jeans and top, and the white wire of the iPod earphones that hung prominently around my neck. All the while the other half purely ignored me, never even bothering to look up like I wasn't worth their time.

It didn't take a genius to fathom that I was unwelcomed here, and they made sure I was aware of that certain fact. I stood uncomfortably, unsure of what to do, or where to put my arms, or how to stand, where to look; the awkwardness I'd felt earlier with Sasuke was no comparison to how I felt right now. I didn't belong here; for the first time in my life, I was the outcast, and I was surrounded by people who already hated me at plain sight.

However, surprisingly, there were a few who did not share the same sentiment of dislike and lack of interest as the rest of the group. Out of ten or so individuals, there were only two who didn't look like they were about to murder me. One was Sai, who was clearly enjoying my torment; and finally, a boy with a strange-coloured hair (not that I was one to talk) that verged between white and a pale shade of blue. His attention wasn't on me however. He seemed to have found something much more interesting; and with a raised eyebrow, he stared with a shocked-like disbelieving sort of look at my hand, or to be more specific just what exactly held it.

It happened in an instant. One moment my hand was wrapped warm from the cold, and in the next it was numbed by the icy breeze. All before I realized it, Sasuke had jerked away from me, letting go of my hand in a disgusted manner like I was contagious of some vital disease. Crossly, he shoved both his hands in his sweater's front pocket and looked away.

The boy, the blue-haired boy, spoke up from where he was sitting on the pavement. "So Sakura, huh?" He gave a grin with a hidden meaning I did not understand; and with a glance at Sasuke, he continued, "Nice to finally meet you!"

I raised an eyebrow.

_Finally?_

In the background, the sound of quiet laughter reverberated across the group. Obviously, there was a double meaning to his previous sentence and it had certainly affected, if only just a scratch, Uchiha's inflated ego. Sasuke glowered at them, sending pointed glares with an underlying threat, effectively silencing his snickering friends. With a scowl, he began to walk away, motioning me to follow him. Like a puppy, I did. Just as I began to think his introductions were over, he led me right to… Karin. Uchiha Sasuke, what in the world are you thinking?

Karin, who had intentionally showed her point of pretending I didn't exist seconds after she had formerly glared daggers at me, looked up at Sasuke's standing figure. Seeing her face, I was surprised. Through her glasses, I saw the rims of her eyes, wet and red, and her cheeks were washed-out and stained with trails of tears. She'd been crying?

Suddenly, upon realizing my stare, she gave me a hateful look—one which I returned gladly.

"Sakura, this is Karin. Karin—Sakura." Sasuke spoke, unmindful of the silent war that went on between the two of us. She gave me no acknowledgement whatsoever, which, if you thought about it, wasn't all that surprising from someone who was raised without the knowledge of the word "manners".

"_Sasuke."_ A voice hissed sharply from out of nowhere. I looked around for its speaker and found Hinata's cousin just beside Sasuke. Neji nodded his head; I took a moment to figure out just why exactly he'd been nodding at Sasuke, when suddenly it occurred to me that he _wasn't _nodding at Sasuke, but rather at something else completely. I shifted my gaze to Sasuke.

He was frowning, his eyes a blend of sentiments I couldn't quite decipher, none of them positive, as he gazed past my head at something behind me. Suddenly, he was saying, "I'll be back."

Wait, what? It was his idea to "introduce" me to his friends, who were far from sociable, and now he's leaving me? Much worse, he's leaving me with _Karin? _"Wait—!"

"Stay here." the finality in his voice was more than enough to shut me up, and he left before I even had the chance to object any further. I watched as he walked up to someone I didn't know, a stranger heavily cloaked lingering against a light post, several yards away. It was probably another one of his delinquent friends. Uninterested, I let my eyes fall back to where Karin was sitting on the pavement.

She paid no heed to me, busying herself by staring down at the cement. She hugged her knees together, trying to keep warm from the cold. What was her point in wearing such showy outfits anyway? Dressing up in fitted clothes was one thing, even I did that, but wearing clothes made fit for a five-year-old and flaunting skin to boys despite the chilly temperature—that was another. Didn't she have any normal clothes? Come to think of it, did she not have any other outfit at all? All her attires were generally the same: scanty shorts, boots and a faded top, sometimes a shirt, other times a blazer; but whatever she wore, it always managed to show excessive skin. Someone needed to take this girl shopping; clearly she'd never met a mall, or had only most likely robbed one if she had.

"What the hell are you staring at?" she snapped. Her question pulled me back to reality, and I was startled when I saw her glaring at me.

"Nothing."

"Oh, so I'm nothing now? Think you're so better than me?"

"What?" I was taken back at her sudden anger, "Well, no—I"

"Whatever bitch. I know what you did to Sasuke back then, how you ratted on him. He says you were a real brat. He says you're a spoiled princess. He hates you. You just think you're so much better than us. Sasuke went through a lot and you'd never understand how hard growing up was for him. Now you come along befriending him? Drop the act! You're not fooling anyone. We all know you'd grass on him again when you get the chance. "

"Uh-" She never gave me enough time to react, much less respond. She stood and stomped off, brushing by me so roughly against the shoulder that I ended up taking a few steps back to regain balance. I stood there speechless as I watched her disappear into the crowd. Her words echoed in the depths of my mind.

_He says you were a real brat. He says you're a spoiled princess. He hates you._

I knew such spiteful words weren't unexpected coming from the Uchiha. In fact, I should have been immune to it by now—up until then, I thought I was. I should _not_ have been surprised by it. I should _not _have cared about what he thought of me.

And what's more, I should _not_ have been hurt.

And yet, for some reason, I was.

* * *

_**The Visitor**_

The visitor watched with amusement as the boy marched his way determinedly through the heavy crowd of passers-by, headed for _him _with a laughable grimace. He simple found it downright amusing to watch the little Uchiha's poise at the moment, as he walked stiffly like a stick had just been shoved up his ass—which, figuratively, there was: the visitor himself served as that stick. Then, suddenly realizing the ghastliness of that metaphor, he quickly dismissed it from his mind.

_Get back to the fucking job. _He thought, admonishing himself before getting any more distracted. He couldn't help it, though; being here sucked. Why did _he _have to do the highly irritating job of dealing with the infamously-difficult-Sasuke Uchiha? The boy was sure to give him a hard time.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the boy demanded in a low, disdainful whisper. His face was flushed with a mixture of emotions: worry, annoyance, fear, hatred, frustration and anger; although, if he'd heard clearly, fear was the most audible.

"Why, good afternoon to you as well, _Sasuke_." The visitor greeted in a conversational manner, though the falseness of it lay beneath like an undertow, and it took no detective to perceive its hidden agenda. Of course, he knew better than to pay heed to the lad's prior enquiry—he'd expected the rude welcoming; after all, the apple doesn't fall far from… the other apple. It was in the boy's blood to be ill-mannered.

"Goddamnit, you're not supposed to be here!" the lad exploded, "What if they saw you? I'll get in trouble."

"Good to see you," The visitor continued, deliberately disregarding everything the little Uchiha had just said. "It's been a long time."

"Shut the hell up." The boy snapped. "Listen, you can't keep coming around like this without any warning. You'll get me kicked out. Or I'll get a longer probation. You can't be here. There's only a few on my can-talk-to list. You people aren't in it."

"Man, Sasuke…" he derided, tilting his head to the side as he observed the boy from beneath his hood's shadow. "They got you whipped already?"

"Shut up." The boy demanded, "What is it you want now?"

"You know." came the pompous reply.

The boy sighed in aggravation and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "I don't have…"

"Two hundred." The visitor proclaimed. "By next week."

The little Uchiha shook his head repeatedly, but the both of them knew this argument was none but pointless, and that the Uchiha would cave in eventually—it always played out that way. The boy would always show some kind of resistance, but in the end he'd always do as they say. "What's he up to?" the boy muttered, "What are all of you up to?"

"Our shit isn't any of your fucking business." He snapped.

The boy scowled at the evasive reply. "Look," the visitor said, his impatience growing by the minute. The little Uchiha was no longer fun, and the boy was beginning to get annoying. "It's a favour, okay? Just do it, just like every goddamn time. I'll come by Tuesday to pick it up."

"You can't. I have school."

"Since when the hell did you care about school?"

"Since I found out it's the only way I won't end up like any of you." The boy barked back.

The visitor then snickered unkindly, "You've always been a failure, Sasuke. I really doubt you'd stop now." Little Uchiha growled. The sight of the angered boy should've amused easily him, as it regularly did, however this time something else had caught his attention, something that proved much more interesting.

Behind the boy, past his shoulder, he saw someone approaching their direction—a girl; and he could tell by the way her eyes focused on Sasuke that she wasn't just a typical pedestrian sauntering by. The Uchiha, little sharp-eyed Uchiha, noticed his being sidetracked in an instant. The boy turned, following the man's gaze, and immediately Sasuke stiffened upon seeing her.

It wasn't Sasuke that he found highly fascinating, but rather his _reaction _at the sight of the girl. Had that been _worry _he saw in the boy's eyes? Slowly, a small, indiscernible smirk formed slyly across the visitor's face, as he watched with heightened interest and curiosity the small scene that unfolded before him.

"What." The lad demanded edgily.

The girl's face contorted with confusion. "I just… came to tell you that I'll get going now."

"Fine."

A look of irritation crossed her features. "Fine." She snapped back; however, she remained standing there, trying to figure out the boy's odd actions. Sasuke, sensing her immobile presence, turned to her and ordered, "_Go._"

He could've probably pulled off the demanding and domineering façade, if only he hadn't sounded so frantic just then. The visitor then focused his attention to the root of the boy's apprehension. He scanned her thoroughly like a specimen on a microscope, zooming in and dissecting her until her image imprinted in his mind—she wasn't strikingly, over-the-top attractive, but the girl fascinated him anyway. He paid close attention to her, watching her reactions at the Uchiha's sharp command. Her expression changed from baffled, to irritated, to defeat. Finally, she turned her back and left.

Mechanically, his body moved forward to follow after the girl; and in a flash, the Uchiha was in front of him, blocking his path with a warning look. "Don't you _dare._"

A smile. "Lovely girl, isn't she?"

"Touch her, and I swear I'll—."

The visitor chuckled lowly in a foreboding manner, _"_Don't fucking worry." he whispered. _"I won't hurt her."_

The boy growled, "She's no one, okay? She's just a friend."

"A damn important one."

"No." the lad insisted.

"I'm sure." The visitor replied snidely. Looking sharply at the boy, he reminded, "Next week. Have it ready."

He glanced back at the girl currently crossing the street. For a long-lasting moment, his eyes lingered on her.

Finally, with a sly, unknowable smile, the visitor walked away.

* * *

_An: My brain is FRIED._

_Just fried, I tell you. This past week, I've done nothing but study and cram and study and cram (and reply reviews. lol) Within a span of five days, I've had NINE tests/exams: 2 on Tuesday, one of Wednesday, 3 yesterday and 3 today. But that's all over now, and I'm completely relieved. Semester 1 is done! *does happy dance*_

_Anyway, thank you for all your reviews. I truly appreciate it! Read, Review and Thank You!_

_Avec reconnaissance,  
Keelah_


	23. Colourless

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_Yes?"_

_No answer. "Ino?" Silence._

_I tore the mechanism from my ear and looked at the screen display._

_Unknown Caller_

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY-TWO  
**__**Colourless**_

"What, you're leaving _already?_"

I hadn't but taken a single step forward when a jovial voice called out behind me, bringing my supposedly quick and unnoticed exit to a halt. Turning, I faced the speaker, the same blue-haired boy that had spoken earlier, who was just about the only one with enough manners to give me a proper greeting—no matter how double-sided the greeting may have been, seeing that it hadf clearly been aimed at Sasuke more than it was at me. The boy stood from his spot on the ground and took a step forward.

"I don't see any reason to stay." I told him. The moment I had recovered from the bafflement caused by Karin's sudden outburst, after she'd publicly freaked on me and stormed off, I decided I had just about enough. The only reason I'd gone along with the idea of meeting these clearly troubled people, and the reason I'd tolerated the unnerving feeling of being the odd one out, was because of Sasuke—because he had looked so... excited, for a lack of better word, at the thought of me meeting them; so eager that it was almost child-like. And such behaviour coming from him was too rare to pass up; I couldn't help but give in.

"Well, don't you wanna tell Sasuke first?"

But I've been watched, observed, and judged; I've stood and felt like an outcast; and I've been spazzed on and dissed by a girl who wore clothes meant for a five-year-old boy. Whereas Sasuke –the mere reason I endured such social torment- was not even _present _at the moment. He'd dragged me here and left me. So no, I _don't _want to tell Sasuke first.

"Not really, no."

"But—" A hand whipped across the boy's head, hitting him with a loud, audible _smack_. "What the hell, Shikamaru!"

"Get outta here." ordered the hand's owner, Shikamaru, who I recognized instantly by his characteristic spiked-up brunette hair, which was pulled back in a pony-tail; he pushed the periwinkle-haired boy back to the group.

"The name's Suigetsu by the way!" the boy—Suigetsu—called out from behind him, and my eyes rolled mechanically, as did Shikamaru's.

Just as I planned my escape, he spoke, "You should at least let him know you're going."

I tilted my head to the side, bewildered. "Did all of you make some kind of pact to keep me from leaving without informing Sasuke?"

"Not quite. We," he nodded towards the rest of the group, "don't want to go through hell week if he gets upset about your leaving without goodbye. Plus," He paused, exhaling exasperatedly, "The guy's my roommate. I don't want to have to deal with a grumpy Uchiha. Spare me the trouble, okay?"

I rolled my eyes for the second time that day, having heard enough. "Fine." I said finally, "I'll go say bye." Whipping around, my eyes robotically scanned the crowd for the raven-haired boy. I found him several meters away, standing rigidly with his back to me. Both willingly and unwillingly, I made my way towards the Uchiha.

My subconsciousness still clung to Shikamaru's words. _We don't want to go through hell week if he gets upset about your leaving without goodbye_ The fact that they actually believed I had a certain impact on the Uchiha was odd; yet a part of me was somewhat glad and pleased that they did. I knew Sasuke, no matter how kindly he acted at times, still hated me, as I did him. But it felt good to think I was important enough that he'd care if I left without a goodbye—of course that theory made by his peers was probably nothing more but a false assumption, but still: a girl can dream, can she not?

My view on Sasuke became clearer the closer I approached, and my gaze focused on his back as I attempted to foresee our conversation. What would I say? _Hey, Sasuke, I'm going now. Thanks, for introducing me. It was nice meeting them _(although that would be downright lying) and what would _he_ say? How would he react? Displeased? Perhaps even a bit upset, as what his friends thought he'd be?

In the corner of my eye, I noticed that Sasuke was not alone. He was still with the man I'd seen a little earlier. From my viewpoint, they didn't appear to be conversing much, if not at all. He was turned away from me, thus I couldn't tell whether he was speaking' and the man—well, it didn't matter that he facing my direction. He wore a cloak so dark and heavy that it shadowed most of his features, and I barely caught sight of his mouth, much less his face. His coat looked familiar though.

It was the man who first became aware of my advancing presence; the slight turn of his head was enough to let me know his attention was no longer focused on the boy before him, but rather on me. I was not, however, given enough time to fret or fidget at the fact that an utter stranger was slyly, raptly staring at me, because right away I was caught by surprise when Sasuke spun around in a brusque, circular motion. His eyes met mine and all at once, his body went rigid.

"What?" he snapped; and the severity in his voice had me taking a step back. I looked at him oddly.

"I just..." I hesitated; what was his problem, anyway? "…came to tell you that I'll get going now."

Looking away dismissively, he replied, "Fine."

My jaw dropped. Okay, so I'd been wrong. Maybe he _didn't_ give a crap if I ditched him. I should've when I had the chance. Why was hef so mad?

"Fine." I scoffed, feeling utterly baffled, staring at him as I searched for some sort of body language that could explain his sudden callousness towards me. His entire body was tensed, and his hands, balled into fists, shook slightly at his side; but of course, my observations were ineffectual, seeing as I didn't know how to read them. Was he angry? He seemed like it. Annoyed, maybe? Overwrought?

It was only when he turned and looked at me in the eye that I began to realize he was not furious—at least, not at me. I for one had never been good at reading other people; it was usually vice-versa: them reading me. I've never been a master at interpreting others' feelings or thoughts through their actions, but I knew enough to recognize the difference between anger and apprehension. It was the latter I saw in Sasuke's expressive obsidian eyes. And when he opened his mouth and uttered his direct order, "Go." there was no mistaking the gravity that dripped from his tone.

Left with no will to object, I turned and crossed the street, his last command still echoing in my head. It hadn't been anything near commanding. It was strained, and, much to my bewilderment, it was almost as if he was _begging._

* * *

Funny how people certainly knew when to go missing just when you needed them the most. Example number one: Naruto and Ino. After I stormed off from Sasuke, I'd walked around for an hour and half in search for the two, who'd disappeared without as much as a footprint to track them with. After a long afternoon of looking for people who had undoubtedly already left, I went home.

Example number two: my parents. They were home when I least wanted them to be, like when I'd gone on a midnight sleep-walk and was escorted home by Gaara, only to find my dad already waiting in the living room. And just the same, they were gone when I wanted them home; like right now. It was already bad enough that my chance meeting with Sasuke turned from strangely okay to horribly awkward and then to just plain awful. I wanted to be welcomed by the scent of Mom's home cooking and my dad's comforting embrace.

Instead of the warmth and affection I longed for though, I was met by the monotonic atmosphere that hung about the house each time it was empty. Locking the front door behind me, I reached for the alarm system at the top right-hand side and entered a four-digit code. The home alarm was used whenever the house was left unattended for a long period of time; lately, though, I've made a habit out of activating it whenever I was home. At least the system provided additional security to the customary door locks, and I took comfort in the fact that I wasn't wholly vulnerable alone.

Just as I was taking off my shoes, the phone rang, amplifying from four different receivers: one in my room, the kitchen, my father's office, and the living room. It was four telephones retaining one line, and its synchronized ringing sounded through the house. Leaving my running shoes by the door, I grabbed the closest phone—the one in the living room. "Yes?"

No answer. "Ino?"

Silence.

I tore the mechanism from my ear and looked at the screen display.

_**UNKNOWN CALLER**_

Mystified, I touched _End _and laid the phone back on the base. I headed up the stairs and walked down the hallway to my left, passing my parents' room, and into my own. I knew I was alone, and that the likelihood of my parents waltzing into my chambers uninvited was highly improbable. Nevertheless I closed the door behind me, out of habit.

Carelessly dropping my schoolbag on the floor, I headed straight for the closet. The left side was my actual wardrobe, a selection of footwear and a full-scale mirror; to the right was my own bathroom, in which I entered right away. Turning on the shower, I stripped off all my clothing. It only took a matter of seconds for the water to heat up, and at once I stepped inside. I threw my head back, letting the warm droplets of water hit my neck, and cascade down my back. Its heat against my cold, fatigued figure was refreshing, and willingly I put out of my mind all of today's events, my frustrations along with it.

A thick, blinding mist quickly filled the lavatory until everything around me morphed in a vague, whitish blur. Relaxed, I let myself submerge into the hazy steam of hot water, as the soothing hum of constant sprinkling filled my ears.

In the background, the sound of ringing began again: soft, waiting, and unbeknown....

* * *

With the remote in hand, I incessantly flipped through the channels for the fourth time that night. Due to having more than two hundred TV-networks, I never ran out of shows and movies to watch, and such times when there was nothing good on TV did not exist in the Haruno household. Once I'd stepped out of the shower, gotten dressed in a pair of PJs and a tank top and plopped onto the bed in the middle of the room, the only thing left to do was watch TV. I couldn't exactly sleep with my tresses still damp (as that would make me freeze in the middle of the night and leave my hair disordered the next morning), and, too sluggish to use the blow-dryer, I waited for the locks to dry naturally.

By the time the pink mane parched, I'd already finished two whole movies, an hour-long episode, and a cartoon. I glanced at the clock: it was half past ten.

Without warning, a shrill ringing broke out. I sat still, staring irresponsively at the cordless phone that continued to chime on a small table beside the bed, the screen's blue light flashing. Who would be calling at ten-thirty at night?

Lazily, I reached for the object; but before I got a hold of it, the phone fell into silence. Wonder quickly spread through my veins and I found myself snatching the receiver anyway.

_22:37 __**UNKNOWN CALLER**_

I clicked down the list and found another incoming call from a little earlier:

_17:50 __**UNKNOWN CALLER**_

My brows knitted together under sheer uncertainty. Calls like these weren't unusual, and they came in commonly from telemarketers and survey-takers—it was the result of my father's idea of having our house number registered in the phone book. There were occasional promotions and questionnaires, most of which I chose not to answer, but never had they called three times within a single evening.

Either these people were desperate to sell their products, or the call was something else entirely.

Nonetheless, despite the surging curiosity that swelled inside of me, I dismissed the matter from my head, feeling too tired to deal with the indefinite matter. I placed the phone back to its holder. Then, lying back on the bed, I turned out the small night lamp, letting the drowsy darkness swallow me whole.

* * *

Bright. It was too bright.

Who'd turned on the light? Was it morning _already_? It felt only a second ago that my eyes closed to sleep. Light struck towards me, threatening to break through my eyelids. Instinct told me to open them, but the rest of my body was weighed down by drowsiness, and I was too tired to try.

But the light did not cease, and as I felt the sense of wakefulness gradually buoying me up from slumber, I noticed something odd about the glow. It was blue and flashing. Little by little I grew aware of a high-pitched noise resonating in my ear. And little by little it came to me just what it was.

Groaning, I extended my arm without much direction in hopes of attaining the object that woke me. I felt around for a few seconds until my fingers touched the telephone.

"Hello?"

I couldn't hear anything, and for a moment I thought it was me that had the hearing problems, being half-asleep and all. "Hello?" My forehead scrunched in a frown, eyes still closed, bordering between sleep and consciousness. It took much effort to form comprehensible words in such a lethargic state. "Anyone...there?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper, the phone slipping from my hands.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello...?"

_Hello?_

_Hello?_

_The word echoed repeatedly, again and again, until I couldn't figure out anymore which was spoken and which was only a resonance. "Hello?" Hello? The sound bounced back, which was...strange, considering there was nothing to bounce off of. There were no walls. This place was... bare, and the nothingness stretched out for what seemed like miles—and yet, there was nowhere to go._

_I looked around; every direction I faced was identically the same, identically empty. But the fact that I was alone, that everything seemed to have disappeared and left me, never registered in my mind—or if it did, I paid no attention to it. Without thinking, my legs began to move. I walked._

_For how long, I didn't know. Time did not exist here, and neither did direction. I travelled, at the same time remaining on the same spot I started, going somewhere and nowhere simultaneously. The oddity of it never occurred to me. I kept on going as though such situation happened on a regular basis._

_Without warning, I stopped, now wondering if I had any control over this body. It seemed to do whatever it pleased, and I was simply trapped to look through a stranger's eyes; a stranger who was clearly unable to feel. These eyes of mine scanned the land before me, the backcloth of barrenness, until I caught movement._

_Turning, I was met by an individual, standing several yards away from me. But like time and direction, distance was inexistent, and all at once the person was beside me._

_There was something odd in his eyes that caught my attention. They were different. They were... coloured. Blue, black, red and violet all clashed together in one dark rainbow. It occurred to me that everything else around us was colourless. Including me. Including him. Only his eyes seemed to have brought some life into this blank interval. I knew him yet at the same time I didn't. Familiar, but before I could fathom why, I realized we weren't alone._

_A figure stood standing faraway, staring at us. Suddenly there were two of them. Just like that, in this colorless universe where only a minute ago I thought I was the only one, other people began to appear. There were many of them, ten, or maybe fifty; some far away, but close; some old... or maybe young. I couldn't tell. My ability to make out differences seemed to have vanished. None made sense, but sense obviously did not matter here._

_They were all around me, standing, staring. I recognized them all; but from where and when, I couldn't tell. All my memories, they were gone._

_Suddenly, one fell to the ground, and I watched in wonder as red liquid poured out from the back of her head, tarnishing her long, straight hair. The thick, crimson liquid stood out from the black and white picture; and soon there were more of it._

_Another one fell to the ground, and this time, the liquid oozed continually from a deep gash on his neck. Another fell. And another. And another. Soon everyone around me began to fall, and everything was slowly painted red. Stains smeared all over the white floors, and it only came to me then that the floors were white. White floors that broadened on for miles, now slowly accumulating puddles of crimson. I recognized what it was. _

_Blood._

_Everywhere._

_These were the stagnant colors that made up this artificial world: black, white, and red. Deep and dark red._

_I watched, unable to speak, as each person dropped to the floor, all graphically killed by an unseen force. I looked around with oblivion, taking in nothing and everything at the same time. My mind seemed incapable of registering the scene before me; I was scared, traumatized, confused—yet all of those were pushed back, enveloped by a much dominant state: numbness. Rattled as I was, I couldn't feel a thing._

_Without warning, an ear-piercing sound reached my ears, yet I couldn't seem to make out what it was, seemingly near and distant at the same time. Loud, and high-pitched._

_Like a scream._

_I searched for the source, trying to figure out who was screaming; maybe I could help. But as I scanned the crowd's familiar faces, seeing the people who'd already fallen and the ones who were yet to fall, I knew it was too late. They were already dead the moment they collapsed to the ground._

_Unexpectedly, a hand, firm and warm, found its way to my cheek; gently, it turned me away from the gruesome scenery. At the sight of my rescuer's familiar face, I relaxed. The boy, my knight, was still beside me; he had been throughout the whole ordeal, despite that I'd forgotten. _

_Regardless of the graphic, unexplainable bloodbath, he never left my side, and there was something about the way he looked into my eyes with such protectiveness that told me he never would._

_All around us, they continued to crumple and die, and bloodied remains lay scattered on the floor. They fell, one by one. During all this, my knight never once let go of me. Only he remained._

_Until he, too, fell to the ground._

_In the distance, that ear-piercing screech ceased not a second, reverberating incessantly in this lifeless world. The screaming continued, its exasperating sound ringing in my ears... ringing..._

_Ringing..._

_Ringing..._

Ringing.

I stirred, burying my head under several pillows in attempt to block out the adamant noise, but to no avail the chimes persevered and made its way through the soft cushions without any difficulty. For a moment, I lay immobile, but the ringing didn't stop.

Groaning, I turned face-up towards the ceiling and blindly felt for the telephone that was lost somewhere in the bed, hidden someplace beneath the tangle of covers and pillows. It didn't take long before I discovered the irritating object near the headboard.

"Hello?" I answered groggily, and for about the fourth time that day I received an expected silence. Impatiently, I wrenched the phone away from my ear; I wasn't about to wait for a response when evidently there wouldn't be one. Without the need to glance at the phone display, already I knew what it said.

_**UNKNOWN CALLER**_

Even through unfocused eyes the words flashed vividly on the blue screen of the phone. Without a second's delay, I ended the call and flung the phone across the room. Just as it hit the ground, it rang loudly and persistently.

I glanced at the clock, taking in its red highlighted numbers amidst the darkness. **2:08AM**

Livid and unbearably tired, I jumped off the bed; and before the telephone could ring any more, I plugged the wire from the wall. Promptly, the device hushed. Faintly, in the distance, the ringing continued—several of them in fact—reverberating along the empty corridors of the house. Pulling the plug effectively silenced the handset in my room—that much I'd already accomplished; it did not, however, shut up the three other telephones that we had. Driven by exasperation and a slight dash of uneasiness that was slowly yet steadily intensifying inside of me, I left my room with three destinations in mind: first, the room across from mine, my father's office.

Heading towards the large oak desk pushed up against a corner of the workplace duplicate, I unplugged the phone wire from its jack with ease. I robotically did the same for the other two, proceeding downstairs to disconnect both the phone in the kitchen and the one by the front door in the living room. One by one, the ringing ceased until ultimately, as I detached the last phone wire from its socket, the house rang with nothing but a deafening silence—a silence I found too still for comfort.

Warily, I looked around me, and only then did I begin to realize the innumerable amount of shadows that existed in every corner. I had been so single-minded on hushing up the telephones for the past minutes that it completely slipped my mind to turn on the lights. Now I wished I had. The house, though it was theoretically the same as before, the same building I knew inside-and-out by heart, seemed foreign in the indiscernible darkness. The lack of light prevented me from knowing just what and who was with me at the moment, and though I should've already known the answer to that, paranoid imaginations got the best of me. Soon I was afraid of my own living room.

Hastily, I made my way back up the flight of stairs, taking two steps at a time. I was in my room and under the covers in a matter of seconds. Gradually, as the clock ticked by, I calmed down. As seconds turned to minutes, my eyelids grew heavier. Little by little I parted from consciousness and was involuntarily drawn deeper and deeper, pulled back into the world of black and white.

_I found myself standing in the same land as I did before, but unlike earlier, everyone around me wasn't dying—they were already dead. Before me, lying closely beside my feet was the shrivelled and tattered remains of a human body, matted with a thick, dark sea of red._

_Looking into the corpse's eyes, a lifeless dark rainbow, I recognized who it was._

_My knight was dead._

* * *

I gasped and blinked as hard as my eyes would let me, trying to shake off the images of that vivid nightmare. I squinted as the sunlight blinded me with its morning intensity. Though my eyes were still unfocused however, my brain was acute, and it recalled just about every gore of last night's dream.

Suddenly, I heard something: a noise, muffled and far-flung. In the nebulous state I was currently, the sound was barely audible. Was I imagining it? I groaned; my head was beginning to ache, and I couldn't think. With that already said, I decided the sound was nothing but a product of my imagination—it wasn't hard to hallucinate with a blurred mind. However as my head slowly cleared, the sound grew sharper; and almost instantly it dawned to me just what it was.

The alarm.

I darted out of my room and flew down the staircase. The closer I got to the front door, the louder the buzzing became. Running up to the alarm system, I entered the code and soon its frantic beeping came to an end. I panted, looking around to see what could've possibly set off the alarm and seeing nothing. Everything was in perfect order, the way I'd left it the night before. It could've been the occasional animal that commonly commenced the alarm bell. It could've been. But the moment my eyes fell upon the golden door lock near the doorknob, I quickly knew the cause hadn't been an animal.

Because an animal couldn't have possibly unlocked the front door.

Guardedly, I reached for the small bolt and locked it. In the same second, destroying what was left of that peaceful Saturday morning a ringing reached my ears, the kind of chimes that derived only from a telephonic device. The phone was ringing.

I stiffened. Just when I could think clearly, countless, overwhelming thoughts stormed my head. I'd unplugged the phone wires; each one of them, I was sure of it. And yet, there I stood, staring at the resounding object that lay harmlessly upon the coffee table. I couldn't get myself to step forward and answer it. Least to say, I was alarmed. Inertly, my eyes traced the wire of the phone, finding it connected to the jack on the wall.

The phone line had been plugged back in.

After a long while, the ringing stopped and in its place the monotonic voice of the answering machine came on.

_Harunos' residence. Leave a message at the tone._

_...Good morning, Sakura._

I froze, immediately recognizing the deep, sinister voice.

_You've been ignoring my calls. Pick up, babe. I know you can hear me._

_C'mon Pinky, answer the phone_

The machine beeped, signalizing an end to the message, but it only took a second before the phone rang again. I stared, too rattled to move, too startled to think clearly, as it continued ringing. Ringing... ringing... ringing... until finally, I conjured up courage from my fear, at least enough to get myself to move forward. I seized the chiming object.

"_Stop it!" _I shrieked on the phone, "Stop calling me! God!"

"...Sakura?"

For a moment, I paused, taking in the deep, soothing voice that came from the other end of the line. Then, it came to me just who it was.

"Sasuke?"

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

"Yeah, it's me."

The hysteria in her voice immediately dawned to him. Hearing her like this, it panicked him a little—just a little. Instincts took over and the urge to make sure she was safe wiped out all the reasons why he couldn't do so. There was the matter of strict ground rules, and he couldn't just leave the house whenever he pleased. He would have to get permission first. Another thing was his reputation, of course. Theoretically, he shouldn't even be concerned about the pink-haired girl; hell, if any of the guys saw him phoning this brat, they were sure to torment him with unending mockery. Thirdly, a small part of him didn't _want_ to care for her; if she didn't care about him, why should he for her? Since when did her safety become part of his instinct?

"What's going on?"

And yet he couldn't stop himself from growing anxious. All those reasons didn't matter now. Rules, reputation, pride. None of it mattered right then.

To him, all that did at the moment, though he didn't quite understand why...

...was her.

* * *

_Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by the line "__We're in a picture, black and white__...Take it over, and paint me with color." from the song "silent Movie" Hm. x) __Fast update, oui? Oui? And now we can all clap and give a round of... reviews! LOL_

_**Read, Review and Thank You! **Your feedbacks last chapter were amazing and inspiring, you guys. I can't thank you enough._

_Big hugs and smiles,  
Keelah_

(SPOILER! Anyone else thinks Sasuke is a total moron in the anime/manga? -_- He finds out the truth behind Itachi's mission, and now he wants to avenge him by destroying the village that his brother gave his life for? Real sensible, Sasuke. Very logical. Or NOT.)

(***To everyone who received an alert for Chapter24 but cannot find it, SORRY that's my fault. I uploaded, thus the notification, but had to take down the chapter again because of some technichal difficulties. Fanfic was all messed last night. Anyway, I'm trying to fix it, but I'll probably update next week. Sorry for the inconvenience.)

**Chapter 24 will be posted on Friday, February 12, 3:00ish PST**


	24. Journeys and Destinations

**Instant Message  
by Keelah**

* * *

"_Go in the woods."_

"_Maybe I shouldn't."_

"_Maybe you should trust me."_

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY-THREE  
Journeys and Destinations**_

"It's me. What's going on?"

When I picked up the phone and answered it, I thought I knew what I had coming. I'd expected a dark, ill-omened voice to greet me from the other line; the voice that had always in the past successfully immobilized me with shock and dread. It was a voice I could undoubtedly identify apart from a hundred others, being the most chilling of all. However, instead of such apprehension, what actually happened was far from what I expected—the only thing that hadn't been so different was the element of shock involved; after all, hearing the alarmed voice of Uchiha Sasuke emitting from the built-in speaker of my telephone, _was_, least to say, surprising.

Nonetheless, at the familiar sound of his voice, a great sense of relief instantly washed over me, so sudden and overwhelming that my knees gave up beneath me, and soon I dropped to the floor with a _thud._

"What was that?" was his demand, "Sakura?"

"Uh—" Out of an unclear mind I tried to draw something coherent, some way to assure him I was fine (physically, though not quite mentally), but I could sense his jitters all the way from the other line, and right away I knew my attempt had failed and my lack of response only panicked him further.

"Answer me."

"Nothing." I croaked out, "That was me. I... fell."

"_Fell?_" I jumped at his sudden volume, "What do you mean you _fell_? Are you hurt?"

"No—I'm fine. I'll be fine." I paused, before adding, "I think."

"What's going on?"

"Um...ugh—" I clutched my forehead, massaging it lightly; talking was beginning to give me a headache. For a second I wondered whether I should answer him honestly, but I knew an evasive reply was too late now—since he'd already heard me freak—and to think up a lie would take too much effort I currently did not have. Besides that, a part of me _wanted _to tell him. Maybe he could make me feel better (not that he had a reason to do so), and comfort was definitely what I needed at the moment, and I was willing to accept it from anyone. Even from a childhood foe.

"There's been someone calling." I explained, "They wouldn't stop. The phone's been ringing all night. I'm just... irked."

"Want me to come over?"

"What?" I asked, taken back at his rather candid offer, though at the same I was grateful (and not to mention, surprised). "Uh—no. No, that's okay. I just need a little air. I'll be fine." I blew out a breath, calming myself. "So, why are you calling?"

"Well," I easily perceived the hesitance in his voice from the other line, "It's about yesterday. I was... rude. I just thought I'd..."

"What?"

"You know."

"Apologize?"

"Yeah, that." Even in the aftershocks of panic, I found myself rolling my eyes at the Uchiha's aloof arrogance; he had enough sense to call with the intent to apologize, yet he hadn't enough guts to actually verbalize the very word. I couldn't decide whether that was pathetic or adorable.

"Don't worry about it." I dismissed nonchalantly, "It's fine, whatever."

"Yeah."

"_Yeah..._" I lengthened the word at a loss of anything else to say; if this had been any regular situation, only a single word could describe it: _Awkward_ in bold, capitalized letters. However, despite the silence, wordlessness didn't bother me as much as it would have on a typical day. After the endless chain of strange, unidentified phone calls I had had to endure overnight, plus the voice message this morning to top it all off, this kind of peace was what I needed exactly. It wasn't the uncanny, spine-chilling sort of silence either, because it was not entirely quiet. Just barely audible from the other line, subdued yet steady, I could hear Sasuke breathing. I didn't mind the lack of conversation; the sound of his soft, stable breaths were enough to let me know he was still there, that I wasn't alone. We stayed like that for a few minutes, letting the calming stillness float between us without ever having to say a word.

Then breaking the silence, he spoke up, "That's all I called for."

Instantly I deflated to the feeling of disappointment. Was he hanging up? "Yeah, okay." I said, slightly vanquished, "Bye."

"Wait—"

"Hmm?" I said, a little too quickly to be considered smooth. Mentally, I slapped myself.

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah. The calls stopped, anyway." Hopefully. "I'll get out of the house for a little while. Distract myself, get my mind off things."

"Where are you going?" his inquiry surprised me; but nonetheless I tried to answer without showing my astonishment.

"Honestly? My plan is to wander."

A pensive silence passed between us, and just when I was beginning to think he'd already hung up, he uttered out of the blue, "If it's okay, I got a place in mind for you."

"_Really_?" I said, overly stunned; it was as if Sasuke had underwent a personality makeover. Where was all the kindness coming from? I supposed it was his way to make up for his yesterday's actions; that, or he was trying to somewhat make me feel better; perhaps it was a mix of both. Either way, I felt too involuntarily exultant to pass up the offer. "...Where?"

"I'll show you." He replied shortly, now sounding as excited as I did, except he wasn't as pathetically obvious as I was being. "Just get dressed."

"Wait, what?"

"Get dressed. I'll call you back."

And the line went dead.

* * *

Less than a minute later, I was inside my room, changing into a pair of jeans and a plain shirt as I wondered vaguely why I was even doing so; it just seemed a little odd, conceding in something indeterminate so easily when all the while my rational senses protested. Nonetheless, like an elated automaton, I flew back down the stairs and was seated on a couch in the living room within seconds. I sat still, staring patiently at the black cordless phone that lay stationary on the coffee table in front of me, willing it to ring.

Seconds ticked by.

Minutes passed.

And just when I began to think Sasuke had left me hanging for good, the phone rang—and it was the first time in the past twenty-four hours that I felt glad to hear the sound of it.

"Hello?"

"You have a cell phone, don't you?" There was no doubt that the speaker was Sasuke, however his candour surprised me, and not to mention the strangeness of the question itself.

"Yes..."

"What's your number?"

"W-what?" I asked, caught utterly off-guard. "You... want my... _number? _Why would Uchiha Sasuke possibly want—?"

Evidently annoyed at my reaction, he demanded, "Just tell me, Sakura."

So I did.

"I'll call you there." Almost instantly as I heard the phone _click_, my cell vibrated. Determinedly, I dug through my purse and flipped open the mobile phone.

"_Sakura!"_

I tore the device away before it could damage my ears. "Ino?"

"I am _so _sorry for not waiting for you yesterday! Naruto? He's an annoying little mutt! He drives me _insane!_ So I ditched the idiot. I think he went over to Hinata's or something. It was freezing, so I went inside Denny's, and Chouji and Lee were there. It was midnight by the time I got home—Dad totally freaked. I tried calling, except all I got was 'the number you are calling is not in service', so you can't really blame me!"

"Okay, I get it." I replied, "It's fine."

"So listen, I was thinking." Ino babbled on, as though I hadn't spoken in the first place. "Let's hang out. Have you _been _outside today? It's sunny! It's totally freezing but, I mean, how often do we get sun here in the middle of fall? We should totally hang out."

"Sure, I guess, a little later. I'm kind of waiting for a call right now, and—"

"From _who?_"

I hesitated. Ino was all-ears now. It was futile to dodge. "...Sasuke. It's no big."

"Sasuke?" she screeched, "Waiting for his call on your _cell? _Like, how does _he _know your number?"

"I told him."

"You _told _him?!"

"He _asked _for it."

I never thought it was possible, but Ino had actually stopped talking. The far-fetched moment lasted about three seconds before it was completely destroyed by her following shriek, "_OH MY GOD!_"

"I'm hanging up." I told her, ending the call. The moment I hung up, my phone began to vibrate once again; expecting it to be Ino, I was indeed surprised to see _HATAKE K. _flashing on the screen of my cellular phone. Uncertainly, I brought the mobile back to my ear and answered, "Um, yes?"

"It's me." Sasuke's voice replied.

"Oh." was all I could really respond to that.

"Are you ready?" I told him I was. "Okay, you said you wanted to get out, remember?" he continued, "I got just the right place for you. I'll take you there."

"How?" I asked him, "You're there and I'm... well, here."

"I'll lead you there. You go wherever I tell you. You have to follow me. Are you up for it?"

I pondered on his words for a moment. Well, why not? All I had to do was follow directions; what was the worst that could happen?

"Okay."

"You sure? Can't back out once you say yes."

"Would I have a reason to back out?"

From the other line, I thought I heard a faint, low chuckle. "Alright then, let's do this."

Despite that we were apart, that I was alone and Sasuke was, well, wherever he was at the moment (which, I guessed, was in his group home) at least fifty or so kilometres from where I was, his words _"let's do this" _caught my attention_. _There was something about the way he said it that, even as I left the house and sauntered down the lane unaccompanied, made me feel as though I wasn't entirely on my own. As I single-handedly made my way through Konoha's maze of crowded streets and deserted boulevards, strangely, I never really felt I was entirely alone.

It was as if he, too, was there taking the walk with me.

* * *

Half an hour later (after approximately thirty or so minutes' worth of blind direction and a robotic sense of compliance) I found myself walking amidst a foreign location with a nonexistent point of reference, save for the small mobile device that I had in hand, held up to my ear.

"Dare I ask: where exactly are you taking me?"

I looked around. It was still Konoha, thirty minutes on foot couldn't have gotten me that far, but I knew I'd left uptown many minutes ago. The patches of woodland grew thicker the further away I wandered, and the typical sight of residential houses was replaced by one-story structures and rotting buildings. Though I've never once been here, I knew enough to say the place was an older part of the city—while our neighbourhood got its considerable share of fancy, urban renovations, this vicinity never even had the chance, and that I could tell clearly from all the rust and washed out paint. It wasn't horrible, exactly; just extremely old.

And have a mentioned my feet were sore? Why I wore flats on a cold November morning was still beyond my and anyone's comprehension.

"It's a surprise." said Sasuke's voice from the phone. Then, he added, "Turn right here."

I did, turning around the corner, only to be met by the same neglected vista; bushy forests, untrimmed lawns in front of paint-peeling houses. I was beginning to question the Uchiha's sense of "surprise".

"Stop." I halted. "Turn to your left." I did what I was told; and before me was a forest, dark and profuse. Though it was morning already, the sun's rays had only begun to light up the sky -during autumn, we only got 7 hours of daylight or less. The sun rose at 8 and set at 4- but it was bright enough. However, the soft, rising light was inadequate to break through the thick tangle of coniferous, which left its thin, unused trail dim and barely seen. The neighbourhood probably hadn't enough money to set up light posts either, because there clearly weren't any from where I stood.

As my observations of the overgrown jungle picked out every bit of its shortcomings, Sasuke instructed me to do the very thing I was deciding not to at that moment. "Go in the woods."

"Come again?" I echoed.

"Walk on the trail. Go in the woods."

I remained unmoving as I my eyes swept over the woodland's trail's entrance once more. "Maybe I shouldn't."

"Maybe you should trust me." His words caught me a little off guard, and for a moment I almost forgot that he was asking me to enter horror-jungle. Trust him? That was kind of hard to do, considering he wasn't even here in the first place; not that I actually would even if he was. Hearing my hesitation through the phone, he sighed, "Look, it's not like you're gonna get drugged or raped or anything. You're safe, okay? I'll make sure of that."

I groaned frustrated as I made my way into the woods, avoiding any stuck out branches. "Fine." I snapped, "So, where _am_ I?"

"West side of Konoha." He informed me, "It's... less developed; I guess you can say. Not exactly a tourist's spot. It's more populated, but less crowded, you know? I go here a lot."

"I've never been here."

"I know. I figured." He chided, but before I could retort anything back at him, I found myself falling, and a sharp pain instantly shot up my leg. I yelped. "Careful. There's a log."

"Oh _thanks_ for the late, useless warning!" I screamed at him, massaging the aching spot on my leg.

"Are you alright?" he went on, disregarding my obvious derision.

"Just _fine._"

"Don't be mad." He uttered, with a tone slightly softer than before; then, just as my heart softened along with his voice, he added with a scoff, "It's not my fault you're stupid enough to miss a fallen tree trunk clearly half your size."

"You _shut up_."

"Can you walk?" he asked, voice gentle once again.

"Yes." I snapped, but slowly I felt my exasperation decrease; I couldn't really stay mad at him for long—in view of the fact that he was my only way out these woods and back home. "Yeah, I can walk." I replied less crossly, wholly dismissing my irritation for him. "Am I there yet?" I asked impatiently.

"Almost;" He responded, "just a little longer."

Grudgingly, I continued walking, following the narrow trail bordered with grass too long. I sauntered forever (at least it felt like so) in the great unending, ever uninspiring lush of pines and firs. Every five minutes or so I'd get this feeling that I was lost, but whenever I mentioned the idea to Sasuke, he simply told me I wasn't, urging me to keep going. This went on for another fifteen minutes, until finally, I halted.

"Sasuke?"

"Yes?"

"The trail's gone."

"Keep going."

"_What?_" This was getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. Where was he taking me, Tarzan's house?

"Just... _go, _okay? Stop being so difficult."

I growled loudly, and nonetheless made my way through the impossible foliage. "I think I just stepped on a bug." I whined after a short while.

"That's.... depressing. Really." came his reply, heavy with sarcasm.

"Ugh, shut your mouth." Hilarious. I could almost hear him rolling his eyes over the phone.

"Wait. Stop right there." I stopped, waiting for further directions like a puppy. Suddenly, he declared, "This is the place."

"This is the place?" I repeated.

"Yeah." He answered.

"Sasuke. _Wow_." I looked around, unfazed. "It's a tree... like I haven't been seeing the same stupid tree for the past forty-five minutes!"

"...you have quite a temper, don't you?"

"This is coming from _you_?" I scoffed.

He sighed heavily, having just about enough of our inane dispute. "Sakura? Just step out of the woods, will you?"

"What?" I asked, confused, shoving the knotted branches out of the way as I walked further into the woods—or, should I say, out of them. It took a few seconds, but soon I finally relieved myself from the thick greeneries; breaking out of the last line of the forest, I was instantly basked in the soft, rising sunlight. For a moment, I was blinded. However it wasn't long before my eyes adjusted to the abrupt dim-to-bright transition, and soon I saw the picture pending before me. I had reached my destination.

In the far, distant horizon, lights of various warm colors broke out, gradually surmounting the once midnight-tinted sky. The newly-risen sun glowed vibrantly, staining golden reflections upon the vast, still waters of the sea. It touched just about everything, having nothing in the open space to hinder light, from the forest's now highlighted perimeter to the sun-kissed sands that gleamed, smooth and completely unscathed. The borderless waters, extending on for miles and miles, were untouched. Unlike archetypal beaches, no loud five year olds played noisily by the shore, no wrinkly old people skinny-dipped in the corner and no loud motorboats disturbed the oceanic tranquility. Perhaps the only thing that moved its waters was the wind—soft, cold and steady—producing supple waves throughout and slightly tossing the trees. It took me a while to realize the picture before me was real, and once this dawned to me, I was breath-taken.

When I answered the phone, expecting a call from the devil, only to hear the Uchiha's calming voice—that was surprising. The fact that he'd noticed my agitation and concerned over it—that surprised me even more. Asking for my cell number right off the bat? I was caught completely off-guard.

But this—there were no words for it.

"Sasuke," I whispered, _"Wow."_

And this time, I meant it.

* * *

_**Unknown**_

Useless, useless alarm.

He didn't understand why she had even bothered to activate it in the first place, if the alarm system was inadequate anyway.

The device —regardless of how technologically advanced it supposedly was, regardless of its price, its multiple defensive attributes, and its receptive sensors— hadn't at all hindered him from entering the open, unguarded residence.

Sure, it had triggered sirens throughout the house the moment he'd unlocked the front door (using the spare key he'd found in that first visit of his to her house several nights ago. The key was underneath heaps of cooking magazines atop their life-size refrigerator. The girl would never even know it was gone) but distress signals were about all the security system could do.

It had automatically contacted the police, that was clever, but they had called back so fast that the girl had still been asleep when they did. It had been easy then to fake a deep, fatherly voice, reassuring the cops that everything was alright—which was of course _after_ he'd plugged the phone line back in its jack on the wall. The girl couldn't possibly believe that cutting mere wire connections would keep him from getting to her.

He'd done the task nice and easy, as silent and stealthy as a professional like he could. Of course, considering how deep asleep the bubblegum lass had been, and how long it had taken for her to come around and realize her alarm system had been set off, he could've marched right in the house, loud and obvious, and she most likely _still _would've missed him.

Hastily, before any neighbours awoke and caught sight of him, he darted down the block without any specific destination in mind—not that he needed a goal, for he already had one entirely established. Their game was like a long, torturously (for the girl) and deliciously (for him) protracted voyage—he lead her, and she followed.

He chased and she ran.

He ordered and she obeyed.

The sounds of the alarm slowly faded into the distance behind him, until it stopped abruptly.

Pinky must've woken up already and turned off the alarm. It was time.

From his pocket he drew out a cellular phone and dialled. As he waited, listening to its continual, unanswered ringing, a sly smirk formed unconsciously on his lips.

She was there.

He knew it.

Yet she didn't pick up. Because she knew who was calling, and he knew she was scared.

All the decency and morality inside him gradually receded, and his conscience had gone and left, making room for what could only be identified as malice. All at once, every trace of emotion swirled down a void-like drain, extracting any remnants of humanity he had left within him. He was caught up in the thrill of the moment, the superior rush it presented his entire body, from the ends of his hair to the toes of his feet.

Her vulnerability made him stronger. Her childish terror put him in control. He liked the feeling—the sense of power he had over her, able to place fear or dread whenever and in whomever he wanted.

_Harunos' residence._

He loved the thought of her cowering beneath him, afraid and helpless.

_Leave a message at the tone._

Grinning maliciously, he sneered,

"_Good morning, Sakura..."_

The map of their unfurling journey was laid out pleasantly in his head, every step and site and surprises he had planned for her already set in stone.

No matter where she hid, or to whomever she ran, the only destination that pathetic, feeble weakling was headed towards was her own death.

And he was the all powering force that was to lead her there.

* * *

_Author's Note: SORRY for the false alarm last week. Fanfic was messed up and I had to take down the chapter because of some technichal difficulties. Anyway, this is one of my shorter chapters. Longer ones, with lotsa action/mystery, are coming up soon. For now, I just decided to give you guys a little SasuSaku-but not too much, cause I can't rush anything, not with Sasuke all emo and grumpy all the time. x)_

_Again, thanks for all your support; your feedbacks are my building blocks of confidence. For all your readers who favourite/alert this story, thank you too for taking the time to read my fic. I'd really appreciate it if you guys send in a review too, however brief or short._

_Oh, and I'm starting to outline the last few chapters of this story. No, it's not ending yet. There's still mooore chapters to go; I'm just brainstorming the conclusion, mapping it all out--and of course, reviews/readers' feedbacks are always a great source of inspiration and ideas. So review, review, review! x)_

_**Read, Review and Thank You! **Let's aim foooorrr.... 700?! =D We can do it!_

_Love,  
__Keelah_

(I do not own Naruto- just thought I should say that. It's been a while since my last disclaimer.)


	25. Two Different People

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Far in the distance...a cloud...hovered in the skies warningly. It was diminutive, easy to discount... but when there came one, there came more._

_A storm was coming... [It was] faraway, distant_

_But it was coming._

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY FOUR  
**__**Two Different People**_

"We're here." Something in his words tore my attention away from the picturesque panorama.

"_We_?" I echoed.

"Yeah. We." He replied his voice suddenly doubling as it came strangely from two different directions; one emitting from the phone I had held up to one ear, and another from behind me. Swiftly, I spun around, only to be met by Uchiha Sasuke's smirking expression, poised haughtily against a tree trunk about three yards away. Then, gracefully, he pushed himself up and strode over to my direction until he stood directly before me.

"Surprise." He said with an apathetical tone, but his eyes visibly danced with enjoyment.

"You're here."

"Yes, I am."

"But—_how_?"

"I was with you the whole time."

"Oh." I blurted stupidly, "Really."

"You were too busy complaining to notice."

"You _followed_ me?" I indicted.

"I made sure you didn't get yourself lost." He explained, more or less solely rewording what I'd already said.

"That's very..." Sweet? Thoughtful? "...creepy." I said finally.

"You want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine."

"Good, 'cause I wasn't planning to."

My heart thudded. "Sasuke?"

"Yes?"

"We should hang up." I suggested, remembering the fact that I still had a cellular phone stuck against my right ear.

A contemplative look passed over his face, and a second later he uttered, "Why?"

I let a moment of silence pass between us before replying, "Because you're right in front of me. We look stupid."

"So?" he countered, "No one's here to see."

"This is ridiculous."

"I don't know," he said smirking, "I think it's kind of fun."

"You're wasting my minutes."

"Fine." Sighing exasperatedly (exasperated at _me_, no doubt) he closed his phone, and the call ended. Slowly, I too shut my phone under the Sasuke's close watch, waiting, I assumed, for me to speak.

"So, this is... great." I said after a long while, referring to the landscape that was painted before us. My eyes swept over the scenery once more. "It's amazing here."

"I know." He whispered beside me. I looked back at him and found his gaze never dared to break contact from mine, as though the scene right in front of us did not even exist at the moment. His stare, as intense as always, wasn't flooded with loathing like the usual. He looked pensive, almost as if he was looking into me, trying to figure me out.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked just above a whisper, afraid to break whatever trance he was in at the moment.

But my attempt was ineffective, and my question had unfortunately brought him back to his senses. He blinked and tore his eyes away from mine, before laying them upon the scenery that was more worthy of his attention than I will ever be. He never answered my question. And as though I hadn't spoken at all, he offered, "Want to walk?"

My eyebrows went up. "Along the beach?" I taunted in disbelief, "Like in movies?"

He rolled his eyes at my sarcastic incredulity "Whatever. If that's what you'll call it." I fought back a smile. "Well?" he turned to me and asked with evident impatience. "Do you want to or not?"

"Sure." I replied, grinning, "Why not?

* * *

Some say hate is love.

And being here, walking along a secluded shoreline alongside the boy I've grown to hate all throughout my childhood, reminded me of those words precisely. Let me get this straight, Sasuke and I weren't in love (I strongly doubted that) but clearly, we weren't "in hate" either—at least not at that very moment, not as extreme as before.

A thoughtful kind of quietude floated in the atmosphere around us. No one spoke, neither one of us wanting to break this rare peace and wordlessness. Sasuke had always been a man of a few words (if not no words at all); and I, well, I feared that once I opened my mouth to speak, I'd say something incredibly stupid and ruin our momentary concord. I didn't want that to happen. Thus, I remained silent, and listened to the sound of the water gently toppling over itself before hurtling onto the shore.

Only a moment ago had I been standing at the rim of the woods' entrance, staring out at the scene that was before me. Now, it felt as though I were a part of this picture; sauntering down the coastline as sands softly squished beneath my bare feet, listening to the soft hum of waves crashing together, watching the newly risen sun in a bright early Saturday morning. Nothing in here was out of place. It all matched and belonged together, perfectly. Even the feel of Sasuke's presence by my side—that belonged, too.

Looking distantly at the horizon, seeing how perfectly aligned everything was, it occurred to me that maybe things were beginning to look up. Maybe the Rogue would disappear entirely, and maybe the cops would figure out what really happened that afternoon in that shadowed alley, so I wouldn't have to feel helplessly guilty anymore. Maybe my parents would come home so I wouldn't be so vulnerable. Maybe I could even make a friend out of this old enemy. Maybe, just maybe, everything would work itself out without me having to deal with them.

But as I scanned my hypothetically seamless surroundings more thoroughly, I was thwarted to find one little flaw. Far in the distance, impairing the perfect-bright-morning image, a cloud –gray and opaque– hovered in the skies warningly. It was diminutive, easy to discount, but it was there and existent, steadily making its way to Konoha. It may only be a single cloud, but when there came one, there came more. A storm was coming; it was faraway, distant, but it was coming.

My face began to darken with suspicion, until I caught myself and realized the stupidity of my own thoughts. It was a _cloud, _a visible mass of water in the sky; what sane person worries over a single cloud? I was overreacting a little too much for my own good.

"Question." I said suddenly, dismissing the solitary cloud from my brain. Uchiha glanced at me, waiting. Wordlessly, I took out the phone in my jacket, went to its call history, and flaunted it towards Sasuke for him to see. "Hatake K?" I asked him, sincerely curious- the matter had nagged my subconscious brain ever since Kakashi's last name and initial appeared on my screen earlier on today, but at that time I had other things in mind. "Don't tell me stole Kakashi's phone."

"Nah." At the question, a look of laughter instantly lightened up his face, and for a little while a good feeling settled in me at the thought that I was the cause for that. "He gave it to me. It's his old phone."

"That's... nice of him." I replied, quite astounded. Sasuke stealing a phone would've been more expected and much easier to believe than him owning one second-hand.

"The old guy's pretty cool." He reflected. Then lowering his eyes to the ground, with a softer look on his face he added quietly, more to himself than me, "He's almost like an older brother in a way."

"You _have_ an older brother, don't you?" At the simple yes-or-no query his expression clouded with something unpleasant, and the distant look he'd given to the ground now turned to brooding glares.

He responded darkly, "Yes."

"Where is he?"

"Not here." There was something about the way he spat out the words that told me this matter was taboo. His following directive only further confirmed my thoughts. "Sakura?"

"Yes?"

"Let's talk about something else."

"Right." I said quickly, flushing at how thoughtless I'd been. Think before talking, I told myself, think before talking. "Why is it so empty here?" I asked him, utterly changing the subject.

In the corner of my eye, I caught him smirk, the edge of his lips turning upwards ever-so-slightly, and the brooding look that passed over his face earlier dispersed simultaneously. "This place is... difficult to get to." he explained, "There's a cliff on the west side, a strong current that never lets any jet-skiers and surfers get close to the beach, and the overgrown woods that everyone forgot about. No one ever really bothered to go through all those to see what was waiting on the other side."

I glanced back at the woods we had come from, and then back at him with a raised brow, "You made me walk through a forsaken forest that no one wanted to go into?"

"Relax. I was behind you the whole time, remember?"

"Sasuke!" I cried, "What if I got attacked by an animal or something? Tripped, hit my head, and bled to death?"

"Right, you're clumsiness battles that of a two-year-old's. I almost forgot." My eyes narrowed fiercely—the fiercest look a five-feet-three girl could give to a dude who's evidently a head taller. However instead of rolling his eyes at my pathetic attempt to stare him down, he simply turned away. "Besides," he added, "You're with me, aren't you? You're safe."

His words, though silent and had been barely audible, shocked me. I wondered whether my hearing senses hadn't worked properly, or if Sasuke actually just more or less indirectly told me I was safe as long as he was around. Okay, so he didn't exactly say that, and the way he said it couldn't have been any more nonchalant, so it was possible –or most likely—that his statement hadn't meant a thing. Still, his words stuck to the back of my brain like duct tape does on skin, adhesive and unrelenting.

He did not say any more after that, and continued walking as though nothing happened—maybe nothing did, and like always maybe I'd overanalyzed things than seeing them for what they really were. It was only after a long, awkward while that I realized the silence wasn't his, but mine. I was the one who knew not the right words to say. Looking at him, I could see he was well comfortable with the silence's return, though I wasn't, because wordlessness wouldn't help me forget the words he'd unknowingly embossed in my brain. So, tactlessly, I broke the silence.

"Do you go here a lot?"

He merely shrugged, "Sometimes. To think."

"What do you think about?" Once again, thoughtless words came out of my mouth without any kind of assessment from my brain; I was talking without thinking.

"Stuff." He replied evasively.

"Like?" I bit my lip and mentally slapped myself. Will I ever learn? Automatically, I assumed he'd be mad with all of my unwarranted inquisitiveness—not that I could help it; with my dad as a former officer and my mother a lawyer, I supposed the nosiness and interrogation were part of my inborn talents somehow. However, instead annoyance, a look of amusement flashed in Sasuke's dark orbs, as he glanced at me with a raised brow. "What?" I asked, a little self-conscious.

"Too much curiosity will get you in trouble, you know." He pointed out with good humour, but the warning was clear in the undertone of his statement.

"I can take care of myself." I retorted pretentiously, and to that his eyes rolled naturally.

"I doubt that." I hit him, lightly, playfully, on his arm. "Stop that." he snapped, but laughter glowed as bright as the sun in his eyes, contradicting its blackness and making them even more enthralling than they already were. I laughed. And for a moment, we were two different people; an archetypal boy and girl fooling around in a lonesome beach. There was no hatred here; in that very second, we became friends—real ones, no matter how unaware of it we were at that time.

But like every other second in a world where the clock went by so much faster when good times took place, that instant came and went, and a second later it became history. My phone began to ring, and whatever it was that materialized between me and Sasuke a moment ago was shattered completely.

Hurriedly, I dug through my purse. "Hello?"

"God, where are you?"

I sighed, "What is it, Ino?" Up ahead, Sasuke ambled away without waiting for me, but I knew he was listening.

"I thought we were hanging out!" my best friend's voice shrilled from the speakers, "I'm at the Café already. Meet me here."

"I can't right now—" Ino hung up. Growling, I shoved the phone carelessly into a pocket of my sweater. "Hey, Sasuke—"

"You have to go?" What _is _it with people and interrupting me?

I nodded, "Yeah, sorry."

"Hn." I flinched at his cold response—although it wasn't much of a response. When he stood motionless and silent, I assumed he wasn't going to speak to me anymore, much less escort me back through the forest he'd made me go through in the first place.

"I guess..." I began uncertainly, "I'll go back now, alone..."

"Come on." I exhaled with relief, thankful that I wasn't going back alone. But when he made his way towards the opposite direction, farther away from where we'd started, I realized he wasn't heading for the woods—at least not the same one I'd gone into earlier.

"You're going the wrong way." He kept on walking. "Where are we going?" No response. "Sasuke?"

"Shut up."

And I did. For the second time that day I followed him dependently like a child. He led me through a thick patch of greeneries, the same forest, I assumed, from earlier, only this was another. Though there was no trail, the area itself in general was more kempt, less overgrown, compared to the one earlier. Less than five minutes later, we made it out of the forest, and I was, at the very least, stunned at the sight of civilization.

Stretched out before me was a public park, crammed with people of all ages and standings, from toddlers to seniors, and elites to hobos, each and every one of them gathered outside for the sole reason of basking in the uncommon sunlight. However, what surprised me the most was the square's familiarity, and it took me a second or two to realize we were back in my neighbourhood.

"Shortcut." Sasuke explained plainly. "That beach was only three and a half blocks from your house."

"But... it felt so _far_..."

"We went through the long way. Around the whole town."

Slowly, menacingly, I turned to him, "Why," I spat, "would you make me walk around the whole freaking town in the cold when the beach was right here all along?"

"I don't know." He replied innocently. "I just... thought it was funny?" The devil.

"You jerk."

"You gullible girl." I glared at him; he smirked back.

"I'm leaving."

"Like I care." So we were back to that. I guess whatever happened in that beach stays there. Fine, if that was how he wanted it. Sharply, I whirled around; in the same second, something large and hasty slammed against me, and I was knocked off balance.

"What, you blind or something?" shouted a skater, who swiftly brushed past me before I could retort anything back. Sasuke was at my side in a second.

"Jesus," He muttered, hauling me off the ground by the arm. "You're humiliating me. Take care of yourself, will you?"

"I can take care of myself just fine." I snapped at him.

"I doubt that."

It was déjà vu of this morning, except this time was slightly different. His eyes were solid and serious. This time, he wasn't joking around.

"Thanks..." I said slowly once I was up. He nodded. "Not just for that. For taking me there too, you know, to the beach." He nodded once more. I fidgeted. "Alright, well, I'll go. Bye." Hesitantly, I turned and walked off.

"Maybe one day." He called out.

I halted.

"One day what?"

He replied, with a voice soft and mellow, "Maybe one day I'll tell you what I think about. In that beach."

I turned to look at him, only to find him staring right back. He gave me a steady, evocative gaze, a kind of look that made me wish I was a mind reader at that very moment. What was he thinking about? Was he remembering our ruinous past? No, he couldn't be. He wasn't thinking of something unpleasant, not when he had the most innocent, demonstrative face. Perhaps he was recalling something else, something nice—something, perhaps, that happened just today. Our moment of amity. Maybe he was reminiscing that. I knew I was.

Wordlessly, I nodded at him. He didn't need verbalized words to know I'd be waiting for that day. Then, without another delay, I turned around and left.

I hoped, silently, that our armistice would last. Sasuke: I had always thought of him as a horrible person, but in all that time I'd looked at him as an enemy. Now, seeing him as a friend, no matter how short-lived that perspective had lasted, it felt right. It belonged.

But as I looked around, scanning my surroundings, my eyes landed on none other than the single, grey cloud I'd spotted previously, and right away I remembered about the upcoming storm. Though it was only a hunch, it was a strong hunch; and instantly it occurred to me just what all this tranquility really was. I was wrong to hope for something improbable. The ceasefire between Sasuke and me came all too easily to keep going. This morning's peace wouldn't last.

Nothing was near concluding.

It was merely calm before the storm.

* * *

"I've been calling you!" screeched Ino the moment I went in through the Cafe's glass doors, drawing much attention from the mostly senior customers dispersed in ones or twos throughout the urbane, library-quiet bistro. It was our (mine, Ino's and occasionally Naruto's) very own fancy, though elderly, chill-and-spill hang out place. The fact that it was mostly old people, who languished their time in here, and from time to time the archetypal man in a suit, made it a perfect spot for us; it was where we wasted hours and hours gossiping and girl-talking and arguing. The elders were either too deaf to hear us, or too old to comprehend our modern-day teenage language; and the archetypal men in suits? They were always too absorbed in their work to pay any attention to two chitchatting girls. Moreover, no one from our school ever went here, and here was where all our secrets were poured out.

"Really?" I said, plopping down upon the brown couch across from her, thankful for the soothing coffee scented warmth it provided. "I never heard a ring."

"Did you put it on silent?" she asked. On the table before us were an espresso and a caramel frapp, accompanied by waffles (for Ino) and a cheesecake (mine). Though to any third person ordering my usual food beforehand so that it's ready by the time I came seemed thoughtful, in this case, it wasn't; I knew by the end of this afternoon Ino would decisively hand over the cheque, leaving me to pay for every penny.

"Nope." I chirped, trying to act as natural as possible, when really, was still quite in disbelief from this morning's episode. "So, updates." I inquired the gossip-queen, as I normally did whenever we were here.

"Well, Naruto's being a love-struck idiot over Hinata. Again. He wouldn't shut up. And Asuma and Kurenai are totally sleeping together, like I can tell."

"I find it weird that we're talking about our teachers' sex life."

"I find it weird that they even _have _a sex life. Or any life at all!" Ino exclaimed, and I felt the automatic reaction to roll my eyes—but on the other hand, I agreed with her. When I was eight, I used to think teachers never left the school district and slept under their desks.

"Right. Anything else?"

"Nara and his girlfriend broke up."

"And you know this for sure?"

"Oh, I'll make it sure." She asserted. I sighed, and in the same second her phone began to ring. I left her to answer it, and seized my mug.

"Ino here. What's up?"

I gulped down the chocolate beverage, gratified as it burned my throat and my rest of my body warm.

"Hello?"

Setting down the cup, I grabbed the plate of cheesecake.

"Like hello, loser, say something." I munched.

"Excuse me?" Ino's face scrunched with annoyance and perplexity. "No, this is Ino."

I was halfway into slicing a second bite when I felt Ino's stare on me. Slowly, a little freaked, I looked up. "What?" She shoved her Black Diamond to my face. Once again, I uttered, "What?"

"He's asking for you."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Then ask."

"Who's speaking?" Ino said into the phone. "She's right here. Who _is_ this?" She extended the phone to me for the second time, her expression downright irritated. "The guy doesn't know any other word but _Sakura. _That's _all_ he's saying: Sakura...Sakura....Sakura... It's not even a full sentence." My skin began to prickle. "Can you just get the phone please?"

Reluctantly, I reached out for the small and sleek device. "...yes?"

"Sakura."

Air hitched in my throat and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"_Sakura_..."

I could neither inhale nor exhale.

It was as though my heart had jumped up my throat and blocked the air passages.

Agape, my lower lip bobbed up and down like a fish caught out of the water.

"_...you can't get away_." The voice rasped. "_I'm with you right now, Sakura_."

_Stop saying my name_, I thought in my head; I hated it when he said my name. It all the more confirmed he knew me. I hated that, knowing the fact that had no idea who he was in return.

"Look around,"

Suddenly I was claustrophobic, and the miniaturization of the espresso bar was no longer calming, but smothering. Nonetheless, I scanned my surroundings. Old people. Man in a suit. Two or three college student employees. And outside, the crowds of pedestrians walking back and forth along the sidewalk.

"I can see you," The voice whispered, almost gently, yet deadly.

"_I'm right here."_

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

There was something different this time.

He felt it, though he fought the feeling.

It was a whole new foreign sentiment, something he'd never felt towards Sakura, something he'd never imagined he'd feel towards Sakura, and something that made him uneasy. He knew the word, but couldn't get himself to think of it, because of how implausible it was. But something was definitely different.

They had talked.

He and Sakura. They had an actual conversation. They had joked around. They had laughed. It was an all too typical boy-and-girl interaction, it just wasn't..._them_, it was all too... unlikely; yet it happened. As he stood and watched her retreating back, flashes of this morning's occurrences played in his head. It happened only a few minutes ago, yet to him it felt as distant as a dream—unreal and overwhelming, in a good way. In a great way, in fact.

As much as he hated to admit, he had a great time.

With _her._

He had a great time with her. He couldn't believe his thoughts, but there he was, watching her walk away and gradually disappear into the crowd, thinking of how he had a great time with her. He was going crazy, because he couldn't possibly be thinking such thoughts with a straight head. He _had _to be crazy.

But she wasn't _that_ bad, he deemed in the back of his mind. She was annoying, most of the time; a brat, most of the time; and intolerable, most of the time. But sometimes, every now and then, she was sweet. Innocent and funny and vulnerable and alluring. And he should stop right there. Stop all together before he got carried away and thought things he'd later on regret.

This was stupid, really. He hated the little brat. Always did and always will—except for this morning on the beach. For that, he'd make an exception, because at one point during their stroll, their hatred for each other had dissolved. Without hatred, they couldn't possibly be enemies, so they became something else. Something different. At one point during their stroll, in the midst of all the joking, uncertain words and the thoughtful silences, at the heart of all that, enmity had developed into amity.

And he hated it. No, he liked it, but he hated that he liked it. He wasn't making any sense. Sakura always had this kind of effect on him; she drove him senseless.

By now she had vanished from his sight, too far gone into the horde of the sun-tanning populace. He scanned the crowd, but in vain he saw no pink-haired girl. Then suddenly, some kind of a ringing reached his ears. He felt his pocket for his phone, the cell phone Hatake had given him; but it wasn't vibrating. He looked around in search for the sound, until ultimately his eyes landed on the small, black mobile device chiming and vibrating on the ground, a yard away from where he stood.

Unthinkingly, he strode forward and picked up the ringing object. He stared at it, turning it over and about with his fingers in observation. It was sleek and glossy, small, black and on the whole femininely chic. It was an expensive phone, he could tell; it was touch screen, it was fancy, but moreover, it was Sakura's.

He had Sakura's phone.

She must've dropped it, that clumsy girl.

He thought of running after her, but halfway through his first stride forward he stopped himself and reconsidered. An idea immediately dawned to him, and in an instant he made his decision. Firmly, he planted his feet on the ground, with no intention of pursuing Sakura.

His hand wrapped around the small cellular phone in a secure manner, before shoving it safely in his pocket.

He wouldn't give it back. At least not right now.

Silently, he smirked, toying with the sleek device between his fingers.

It would give him another reason to see her again.

* * *

_Author's Note: Confession: I didn't expect to hit 700 today. Suddenly, I get the 5 remaining reviews that I needed (I have a feeling it was from only one person... hmmm... lol thank you for that.) and I was like: oh crap, update! This is... carelessly and hastily proof-read, so if you find any errors, just tell me._

_To be honest, I was surprised you guys liked the last chapter. I was kinda scared when I uploaded it. lol But I'm really glad you guys liked it._

_**Read, review and Thank You!** As always, your feedbacks are greatly appreciated._

_Back to watching the Olympics,  
__Keelah_


	26. Inescapable

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_It reflected our dangerous relationship: we ran ...But he'd never try to catch me. We weren't playing tag. It was a mere game of cat and mouse; he chased me and I ran and the game was endless but the point was clear._

_He chased me. I ran from him._

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY FIVE  
**__**Inescapable**_

It was almost as though I could hear him. It was almost like he was right beside me.

"What is wrong with you!" Ino screeched as she barely caught the flying cellular I had carelessly tossed at her direction in panic. "You don't just play catch with a phone worth more than a thousand, you know!"

"I have to go."

"You just got here. And who was calling?"

"I have to go." I repeated robotically, "And I don't know. I have to go."

"Alright, I get it. Go already." She said, staring oddly at me as I scrambled to get out of my seat. "But call, okay? You're worrying me."

"Sure." I replied, though I registered not a single word of what she'd just said. Hastily, I made my way out the bistro.

The harsh sunlight instantaneously blinded my eyes. I squinted, trying to squeeze through the thick mass of people while I was halfway sightless. Nothing, not the intense bright rays or the walls of Konoha's sun-loving weekenders, could subdue the mounting dread in the pit of my stomach at the moment.

He called Ino's phone solely to reach me. Ino's, not mine. Why not mine? I wondered; but it didn't matter. He knew more than I gave him credit for; he knew my best friend's cell phone number, he knew our favourite chill spot. Everywhere I went, he could see me. Everywhere I hid, he could find me. It made me wonder why I even bothered. However, if each flight from him could postpone his game of gore just a little longer every time, then it was worth it; it was worth the wearisome cycle of hiding and being found in just a matter of moments, then running and hiding again. If it meant I wouldn't have to provide him his nightly prey, then it was worth the trouble.

Distractedly, I made my way down the street, turning lanes and corners with a floating sense of direction for home—a floating sense of _direction_, but my sense of awareness was unreservedly alert, picking up every sound of footfalls, splitting twigs and other fleeting conversations. I tuned out the insignificant rest, listening for anything that could potentially be suspicious. The Rogue was infamous for being unseen, but no one said he was noiseless. Eventually my ears focused on one sound—the sound of movement: clothes lightly ruffling... soft, muted footfalls... breathing.

Though that may not seem all that essential, it was, considering that the crowds had lessened to nothing several minutes ago, and I was now alone in the avenue. The next closest human being was across the street, nearly a hundred meters away—and my earshot couldn't possibly be that inhumanly sharp. Thus, the source of whatever I was hearing must be near.

I continued walking (fast-walking, now) in hopes that the sounds were only an upshot of my paranoid imagination, but the faster I marched the stronger the feeling grew.

I was being followed. Halting, I turned around sharply, anticipating catching the tail off-guard, but to both my relief and dismay I saw no more than an empty sidewalk. I was alone here, or so it appeared; it certainly did not feel as such, though. My eyes told me I was on my own, but my guts maintained just the opposite; with a single thought, I decided to rely on the latter. Slowly, and what I hoped was unnoticeably, I reached into my bag and felt for my phone. My parents were on speed-dial, and so were Ino and Naruto; Sasuke's number was the last of my received calls; anyone of these people I could call for help. All I needed was my phone.

My hand skimmed over a rectangular wallet, a lip gloss, a compact, keys and a keychain and more... but I couldn't seem to find the small, square telephonic device. Frustrated, I pulled my hand out; I'd find it another time. Right now though, I needed Plan B. And without any thought at all, I broke in a sprint.

Then I heard him, loudly discernible and patent. The bold forthrightness of his hurried steps, the fact that he didn't even make any effort to secrete, scared me further; and I found myself unable to stop and look back. I couldn't, knowing that I'd find him there staring right back at me.

I ran faster.

It was like something in a nightmare; I wanted to go faster, yet my limbs protested. I was running in water. The house was within sight now, close, yet it never felt so far away. The sound of heavy inhalations and a rapid heartbeat—all mine—drowned out his footfalls and other noises. But I knew he was still there, at my tail. I could never seem to elude him, in more ways than one.

It was as I was halfway down the block that I realized something odd. His pace, though at running speed, was steady. Surely he was faster, and no doubt he could outrun me, however it seemed he chose not to. He remained at my shadow, but never quite overtaking. A part of me wondered the reason why, but there was no time to think of answers as I was on the yard now, and my lungs had never so much threatened to explode than this moment.

I ran up the stairs onto the wide terrace and fumbled for the keys. Hurriedly, I opened the front door just enough for me to squeeze through and shut it again. I secured the lock.

It was after collapsing on the floor from a crushing fatigue, when my lungs began to respire once again and my brain cleared and functioned, that I began to realize I'd ran for no reason at all. While I was only walking, still unaware of his shadowing presence, he could've easily grabbed me and did what he pleased.

But he didn't, because catching me wasn't his motive.

He never ran fast enough to catch up to me—though he could've done so effortlessly. In a way it reflected our dangerous relationship: it was always like that. We ran while he maintained a short, steady distance behind me, and when I get to cosy and start walking, he'd close that distance, to scare me, make me run again. But he'd never try to catch me. We weren't playing tag.

It was a mere game of cat and mouse.

He chased me and I ran and the game was endless but the point was clear.

_He _chased _me_.

I ran from _him_.

I knew who I was running from (him) and why I was running (for my life, and perhaps for the life of others as well. I didn't want to be a permanent writer of his who-to-kill-next list), but what I didn't know where I was running to anymore, in what direction I was headed.

He kept tabs on me everywhere, in every place,

Every hour and minute.

The Rogue was inescapable.

* * *

I woke up the next day to a snowy Sunday morning. Gone was yesterday's sunlight, and in its place a pastel kind of whiteness covered all across the sky. Looking out the window, I was met by a wintery picture worthy of a postcard's face. The snow was only a few centimetres thick, just the typical amount that came in late autumn to set the mood for the upcoming season, but it was enough to blanket every exposed surface there was, like a thin white cloth draped over the region of Konoha. On a normal day I would've rejoiced at the sight of snow, as any normal person in the world would've felt; it was a natural human instinct, I supposed, to feel even just the slightest glee upon seeing the pale, weightless flurries (unless you were a driver), and I would've felt just the same.

…would have, if only I hadn't woken up to find that it was by now nearly noon and my phone (which served as a secondary alarm clock along with the one on my side table) hadn't rung to wake me up. I wasn't used to sleeping in, not if I intended to, not if my parents were home with a brunch-in-bed already prepared for me. But of course, how could my phone alarm when it was nowhere to be found?

My phone was missing still. Where was that stupid cell? It was a question that aggravated my brain all morning. By the time it was half past twelve I'd ransacked my bag, my entire room, and the living room, the only places that I've been between yesterday morning and last night. Of course, that was excluding the beach, the park, and the café. If ever I had dropped it, I couldn't possibly run out to the beach or the park at this very moment, not with all the snow outside, and the café was three blocks away. Then, at the thought of the café, I ran to my room, grabbed the cordless telephone, and speed-dialled two. Ino.

"What do you want…?" Her tired voice came groggily from phone after four rings. Unlike me, Ino preferred sleeping in. She believed in the thesis of beauty sleep.

"Do you have my phone?" I asked her directly, hoping the answer was yes. No one that went to the Café was a potential thief, just old people and working college students, so if I'd left it there it couldn't have possibly been stolen. Either Ino had it, or it was in the possession of the Café's staff.

"Why would I have your phone? Mine looks better anyway."

"I think I might've left it at the Café. I thought maybe you found it."

"Nope." Ino chipped happily, "Wherever it is, consider it stolen. A lot of people have their dreamy eyes on that crappy phone, I don't know why though."

"Thanks, Ino." I replied sourly, "You're great help."

"Glad to be of assistance. Good night. " She chirped and hung up.

I groaned and fell back onto the bed. Just great. I'd lost my phone and my parents would kill me—or, perhaps not. Dad would buy me a new one, and my mom, strict as she was, would give me an endless lecture about responsibility. And then buy me a new one. I didn't want any other phone though; I've grown quite attached to my current one; the one that was at the moment missing. Hopelessly missing. The phone was missing, and I was hopeless.

Just as lack of hope entirely drained the energy out of my veins however, the telephone, still in my hand, began to ring. I hoped it was Ino, calling to tell me she had it after all. Or the Café, calling to say they had a cellular in the lost and found that might be mine. Or perhaps a kind stranger, calling to tell me they'd found it lying on the grass in the park.

All these I wished for and hopefully expected, therefore it was at the last of my expected-list and the first of my unexpected-list to find my very own name flashing on the caller display of the telephone.

**H. SAKURA Calling**

What a pleasant surprise. I was calling me. _What the_—Hesitantly, I touched _Talk_.

I did not know what to anticipate for when I brought that telephone up to my ear, although it definitely wasn't a low, playful voice taunting, "Guess what I have..." in a smooth, sing-along tone.

I nearly choked with surprise, "Sasuke?"

"Flattering how familiar you are with my voice."

"You thief!" I accused gaily, "Give that back!"

"Maybe I'll keep the phone and you just get a new one."

"I don't want a new one. That Samsung is my beloved."

"How...materialistic."

"We've been through a lot together. Gossip, celebrations, fights, breakups—"

"With whom?"

I paused. "What?"

"Breakup with whom?"

Scuffing, I dismissed, "You're kidding." A pregnant, answerless pause. "Wait—seriously?" I inquired in total shock.

"Will you answer me without being so annoying?"

"Most likely not."

"Then forget it."

"I want my phone back."

"You can forget that too."

"Sasuke!" I demanded, and from the other end of the line, a low chuckle barely reached my ears. Right then I noticed the effortlessness of this conversation. I never even had to think of what to say; our dialogue progressed naturally, as though talking in the phone for us wasn't unusual.

"Get it yourself." He rejoined.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Meet me." He dared in a self-aggrandizing way.

"That's your only motive, isn't it?" I jeered at him, "Uchiha Sasuke wants to see me again."

"Not even close." He spat, disgust evident in his tone, and in response I rolled my eyes.

"Monday?"

"No." He replied abruptly, and I was surprised. "Not tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"...I'm won't be at HLA." He explained imprecisely.

"Why not?"

"Damn it, Sakura, just pick another day, will you?" he barked, and though we weren't even in the same area of the city I could hear his slowly rising temper through the phone line alone. Silently, I was grateful for our distance given that I was already fearful at the meagre sound of his anger.

"Alright, fine." I recoiled immediately, no longer happy with where this conversation was going. "Jeez, calm down."

Silence, and then, the sound of a slow, forced exhalation. "I didn't mean to yell." He murmured, the words scarcely a trace of whisper.

I sighed, "Okay, whatever. Until then,_ don't_ open it."

"Too late."

"What?" I snapped.

"Already in your photos," said the monotonic voice if the Uchiha. I glared into the telephone. "Amateur. All too blurry."

"Who made you the expert photographer? They're better pictures than you can ever take."

"Doubt that." He muttered, noticeably boasting, "And don't deride me. Your inbox is only a click away."

"Jerk."

"Clicked it." I groaned. "Look at that," he announced with a kind of enthusiasm that couldn't sound any more fake, "A love letter. Let's read it, shall we?"

"_Don't_."

"Dear, dear Sakura,'" he recited, and to that, I groaned in a frustrated manner; clearly now he was just making it up to torture me...and taking pleasure in it. "If falling for you, girl, is crazy...then I'm going out of my mind—"

"Goodbye Sasuke," I snapped, hoping to cut him off. However the attempt was to no avail as he continued to deliver the tacky yet somewhat familiar lines of this so-called "letter". Then, just as I was about to ultimately end the call, it occurred to me just where I'd heard these words from; everywhere, in fact, ranging from YouTube to the radio to my computer's Media Player. "Wait—that's a song."

The insight was enough to shut him up. I could hear his discomfiture from the silence that followed, but I didn't stop there. It was all too gratifying, and I couldn't resist to gibe, "That's...like, a love song. You just cited lyrics. Sasuke, that's _adorable_!"

The flinch was audible in his voice. "Don't—ever—call me that."

"Cute!"

"Sakura." his voice, taut from restrained irritation and suppressed displeasure, grumbled from his end of the line.

"Yes, you romantic and sensitive boy?"

A deafening slam, and then—

The dial tone.

* * *

I sauntered, feeling the snow compact underneath the soles of my boots, and the icy air whipping softly past me. Though it was technically still in autumn, I felt the forthcoming Christmassy season just around the corner—the fresh powdery flurries throughout the area, upon every exposed surface like a coverlet of white cloth, hadn't but emitted that only sensation. In spite of the solitude and the zero-degree temperature, I couldn't help but take a walk in the snow, childish as that may seem.

The snow had stopped falling by early afternoon, an hour or so after Sasuke's phone call, and once it did I grabbed my boots, a winter jacket, and set out without further delay. Now that I found out my phone was in safe hands (if being in the possession of Sasuke Uchiha could be considered safe at all) my day was officially made up. I hadn't bothered calling Ino for company, knowing in advance that she would straight out refuse at the very thought of putting her shoes at risk in the slush; in addition, I couldn't ask Naruto—bringing him along usually lead to him bring with the whole town, and though I liked being around people, I preferred being on my own than have nearly all of Naruto's friends at our tail (and Naruto was friends with all of the Academy's student body, more or less)

I had no precise destination in mind. A few minutes into my stroll however, a block and a half away from the house, it turned out I didn't need one. Across the street, scattered throughout the small, public park, were recognizable dogs and their recognizable anger-managing trainers. It was Kakashi's group, although Kakashi himself, from where I stood, was nowhere to be found. Instantly the thought of Sasuke crossed my mind; if they were here, he must be too. Decidedly I marched across the street, headed towards my new-found destination.

It was Shikamaru who spotted me first, and a look of surprise and puzzlement quickly passed through his characteristically lethargic frontage. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked once we were within audible range. I faltered then, a little hesitant to go closer. He had in his hand a thick leash, the other end of which was linked to a stout black bulldog; it was frowning in the way all bulldogs seemed to do, and its eyes, small and droopy, threatened to close. No more than a few seconds later, they did. Strange how the dog seemed to resemble its owner. If the canines to which they were designated were of Kakashi's choosing (which I assumed they were), then it must be, I presumed, an outcome of the masked-man's twisted sense of humour.

"Just taking a walk. No reason, really—isn't that Oreo?" I asked at the sight of a large, off-putting Siberian husky skittering across the field, heading straight towards me. This time, though, I knew well enough not to be frightened. I dropped to Oreo's level and, as he swaggered within reach, scratched the back of his ear in the same manner I'd seen Sasuke do in the past. Like a puppy, the cookies-and-cream coloured dog caved in with delight, rolling all over the powdery snow. I laughed, "Hey bud..."

All the while, Shikamaru's face was held in shock, as stunned as he could contort his features without exerting too much of his low-drained energy source. "How did you—?"

I looked up at him and saw his expression a blend of amazement and horror. "What?"

"He could've attacked you. But... where'd you learn that?" he inquired, nodding at my hand that was on the dog's ear. "Only Sasuke has the guts to scratch his ear."

"Oh, I saw him do it once." I explained, but something in his words caught on to me. "And anyway, Sasuke said Oreo doesn't attack anyone."

Shikamaru scoffed, "Figures he'd say that."

"What do you mean?"

"Sasuke—he puts a lot of faith in things... too much, actually. That includes dogs. He thinks Oreo's gonna pass the program." I gave him a look that clearly showed I had no idea what he was talking about. "We're in this rehabilitation curriculum, you know that right?—Right. Well, we get these dogs, and we train them. At the end of it, if we manage to straighten them out they'll go in for sale so other people can, you know, adopt them as pets. Otherwise, they go back to the pound. Or put down."

My hands stopped their ministrations, and Oreo, on the ground by my feet, whined. "You don't think Sasuke can do it?"

"I don't doubt Sasuke." He recanted, "It's Oreo that's wild, pretty hopeless, too. It's unlucky that he got the most damaged dog to train." I thought again, distantly, about how Kakashi matched up the dogs to their juvenile trainers. He successfully matched the indolent animal to the indolent human; and, surprise, surprise: he also matched the wildest dog to the wildest boy, danger to danger, hoping on some twisted star that by some miracle, they ended up taming each other. Quite impossible if you asked me, and right then I began to see Shikamaru's perspective, though on a different note. He doubted the dog. A part of me doubted Sasuke.

Speaking of whom, I asked, looking around, "Where is Sasuke? Isn't he supposed to be training Oreo?"

"He can't."

I turned back to the brunette. "Is something wrong with him?"

"He's alright, don't worry." I scoffed at his reassurance. I wasn't worried. "He just can't go anywhere, not right now." A look of confusion settled on my face, but before I could ask him to further elaborate on his previous statement, he dismissed, "I've gotta go. Sorry. Nice seeing you, Haruno." He nodded at me and turned to make his leave. In one fluid motion, he bent down and grabbed Oreo's chain on the ground before walking away. His dog, however, the bulldog, remained sprawled on the ground, seemingly asleep. He tugged impatiently on his leash, but unproductively the dog didn't budge. Shikamaru scowled and yanked the chain violently, jolting the fatigued bulldog awake. "Let's go, Bull." He ordered, and then walked away, dragging the dog behind him.

The ostensibly non-violent and sluggish boy's sudden show of aggression left me staring after him in surprise. But I shouldn't have been so staggered I supposed; after all, Shikamaru was in this anger management program for a reason. He, Sasuke, and the other guys along with their dogs were all under construction.

"Ignore him." piped a voice that belonged to only one. I whirled around and found him smiling at me, Sai. I noted the brown canine at his side, with a black crest and wide, unsettling eyes. "He's an ass when in a bad mood."

"What's up with Shikamaru?" I asked, curious to know what had managed to tick off the usually passive boy.

"Guilt. Over his girlfriend."

"That girl, right?" I guessed, "Blonde with pigtails? She graduated from the Academy, last year I think." I knew this, of course, from Ino.

"Yeah, Temari. She was an exchange student from Suna. Their father's real rich; a leader at some place. Anyway, they just broke up a week ago. And now she's missing."

"Missing?" I echoed, outright engrossed.

"Just gone. She ran away, I think. And Shikamaru's pissed off because Gaara's not even all that worried."

"Gaara?"

"They're siblings." He stated.

"Really?" I exclaimed in disbelief. I reflected on their vastly scarce resemblance; she was blonde and he was a red-head, she seemed, from all the talk around her, rather mean, while Gaara was... well, nice. And sweet, to me, at least. Sasuke never seemed fond of him, however.

"How do you know all this?"

He shrugged, "Kinda hard to keep a secret when you all live under the same roof." Right, they all lived together. A bunch of teenage boys gathered within the same vicinity. I wondered subconsciously just how disastrous and chaotic their residence was. After all, a dwelling could only handle so much male antics. And how could they stand it? Sai and Sasuke and Gaara didn't get along; Shikamaru dated Gaara's sister, yet they all had to live in the same household. Oh, the drama!

At the thought of Sasuke, I suddenly remembered something; they lived in the same place. All I had to do was know where, and I get my phone back. "Can you...tell me where you live?"

At my inquiry, his eyebrow shot up; though without question, he answered, "Three blocks south of the neighbourhood, outside the suburbs. Woodlands and fifty-second, One-three-nine-seven. Ever been there?"

"Not really." Not consciously, I thought. But yes, I _have _been there, though I was half-asleep and directionless at the time. I was not even aware of where I was or just how far I've gone from my house until Gaara had told me.

"Well, here's a tip. It's a crack place at one-oh-sixth avenue, so try not to get lost. Skip it if you can, go all around the park, by nineteenth. Turn right when you get to a round-about. Just straight from there on." I nodded, though half a second later all the information he'd given me slipped away from my mind. "So, why are you asking?"

"I have something to pick up."

"I can get it for you?" he offered.

"No, it's fine." I declined kindly, "Thanks. I'll get it myself." Besides, I couldn't deny the fact that I was rather curious to see where the Uchiha Sasuke lived.

"Well..." he started hesitantly, thinking, "We have a strict visitors rule, but I guess Kakashi would be okay with you." Then, as if something finally dawned to him, his expression became grave. "You're going to see Uchiha, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I replied, perplexed at his expression. "I am. Is that wrong?"

He frowned, his smile long gone, as he spoke with a desperate tone, "Sakura, I told you before, Sasuke...he's screwed up. You never know what's going on in his head. Something's wrong with the guy." He told me the things I'd already heard. I nodded neutrally, causing him to give out an exasperated sigh. "Be careful? Please? I don't like the guy and—damn it, they're calling me. I should get back. Remember what I told you, okay? I'll see you in school. C'mon Shiba." He said as lead his dog further into the park, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Abruptly, I shook away all of Sai's warnings. I had nothing to be terrified of. His forbidding descriptions about Sasuke might have fit my impression of him in the past, but not anymore. Sasuke—he changed; not necessarily from bad to good (because he wasn't all that good yet) but he certainly wasn't the same person four years ago.

I suddenly realized I'd been standing on the same spot for far too long than what was considered normal. Ridding all my thoughts away, I turned and continued my earlier stroll; only this time, it wasn't simply an aimless wander. There was a destination.

Three blocks south of the neighbourhood, outside the suburbs, woodlands and fifty-second, 1397. Skip one-oh-sixth Avenue, go all around the park, by nineteenth, turn right at the round-about and straight from there on. Suddenly all these directions stormed back into my brain.

Next stop? City information.

I had a map to buy.

* * *

_A/n: Sorry! No POV this chapter. I'll put point-of-views of two different characters in the next chap to make up for it. Sasuke and...Someone else. ;) Something to look forward to for the next update!_

_Totally off-topic__: Do you guys have any **recommended fics**? After spending so much time being a writer, I kinda miss the relaxing & reading part of FFnet. I'm okay with other animes too (Ouran, FMA, Bleach...) So what do you think is worth reading? Tell me your favourite fics! =)_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!**_

_Yayeah! Spring Break!  
__~Keelah_


	27. The Land of Boys

**Instant Message  
****By "Keelah"**

* * *

_My fingers touched the delicate rim of the portrait. Sasuke... [was] caught laughing in the moment as the older Uchiha had him in a playful headlock. He was smiling too...on the other picture, in a warm embrace of his mother and his father's proud hold._

_He was once so happy, so jovial, that I began to wonder:_

_What happened?_

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY SIX  
**__**The Land of Boys**_

**Uchiha Sasuke**

He weighed the object in his hands, bouncing it lightly and rolling it back and forth until the item slipped between his fingers, before he caught it once again, back in the safety of his palms. He repeated the cycle.

How long he'd been toying with Haruno Sakura's cellular phone, he did not know. What he did know though, was that it was rather fun messing about with the device. He also knew that he couldn't stop. These were the outcomes of what several hours locked inside the house while everyone else was outside playing in the snow (just because he broke some stupid insignificant rule) could do to you. Insanity. He could feel it slowly creeping into the caverns of his brain; it wouldn't be long before it overcame him completely. How perfectly unpleasant.

Out of the blue, the phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at the screen.

_**R. calling**_

_Unknown Number_

Speaking of unpleasant.

His face unconsciously fell in a scowl. Whoever this was, they'd been calling incessantly. It was a boy, he assumed. Her boyfriend? No, couldn't be. Last time he checked, she wasn't dating; who in their right mind would date Sakura? He couldn't imagine going to the movies with the pink-haired girl. Not that he ever tried.

By that time the phone ceased its ringing noises, and he huffed. _Good_. At least he didn't have to fight the urge to answer the phone and tell the guy to fuck off, that she was taken. Maybe then would he give up and leave her alone. Or what if he was the stalker Sakura had mentioned? At the thought his fingers wrapped tightly around the phone in balled fists, before quickly letting go in order to spare the thing from being crushed. He remembered her panicked cries earlier, how full of fear she'd sounded, how desperate, and then how thankful and relieved her tone became when it was his voice that emitted from the other line. He wasn't too fond of the girl, but he couldn't deny the gallant feeling that rose in his body at the thought of being her rescuer. He wouldn't mind being on call once again. He'd answer.

On cue, the object vibrated in his palm for a second time.

His actions were purely impulsive, carried out without a thought as he raised the phone and pressed it against his ear. Before he could ask himself what the heck he was doing, Sasuke firmly and impatiently spoke into the receiver: "Sakura's not here."

"Who is this?" inquired a voice just as abruptly. It was even, direct, without tone or emotion. Instantly, Sasuke found himself hating him.

"I should be asking you that."

"Who is this?"

Sasuke twitched, annoyed. "Her boyfriend," he spat unconsciously, unknowingly. "Now who the fuck are you?"

Silence echoed from the other line. As what little of his tolerance finally ran out, Sasuke demanded, "Is this a prank call? I swear you punks better stop screwing with Sakura or—"

"I am...her _master_,"

The Uchiha halted. "Her _what_?"

"...her predator,"

"What the hell are you talk—?"

"And, most importantly..."

"Who are you?" he demanded, "Who is this?"

"...her murderer."

The line flattened, and a long, monotonic tone emanated from the speaker. Sasuke scuffed, now thoroughly irritated.

What a freak.

In attempt to take his mind off the grating phone call, his fingers grudgingly moved across the key pad as he probed around in her phone—pictures, videos, contacts—and soon came across her speed-dials.

The memory of the call evaporated, and a new idea occurred to him. Acting purely on instincts, his fingers hovered over the keypad, clicking in the designated numerals as they were driven by an unknown, unseen force. It was as he did this that he finally figured it out. Insanity. That was the cause of such thoughtless act.

Yet he couldn't stop smirking in arrogance at his brilliant work, the new information that was now stored in her phone. Insanity, he reminded himself. Steady and growing insanity.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, he watched his fingers (now completely separated from his brain, he was sure of it) scroll down and press another button. _Memo. _Unhurriedly, he keyed in carefully selected characters: WHEN YOU NEED... Wait—no. That sounded too... sappy. _Delete. Delete _He thought for a moment, and tried again: C...A...L...L... No—crap. That's too much out of a movie. It just wasn't... Uchiha-ish. It had to be smooth, but direct; concerned but at the same time offhand and detached...tender but casual..._J...U...S..._

Eventually he looked at his finished masterpiece. Certainly he was going crazy. He couldn't have formed such a communiqué in a right state of mind. If he did not follow through with this, if he could just _Delete; Delete _all over again, that would prove he wasn't mad after all, wouldn't it? As if to resolve this mental conflict, he watched as his thumb skimmed across the pad, entirely skipping _Cancel. _Instead, to his surprise, it pressed _Okay_.

Message Saved.

Well, he'll be damned. He really was insane after all.

* * *

*** * ***

MIA for the third time, Uchiha Sasuke was.

The first time was nearly five years ago, back when we were eleven when he suddenly stopped going to school after that terrible incident, and all that was left of him was the phantom of whispers—he went to jail, murdered for revenge, lived in a crack alley as a hobo, disowned—but the gossips eventually died away as well. Neither the school staff nor the police had given out any information regarding the whereabouts of this vanished boy. The second time was just a few weeks ago, when he'd disappeared out of the blue and all but I seemed to know where he was. His friends certainly knew, as did Kakashi and Morino, but none chose to tell me. And now, for the third time, it seemed he was doing that very same show once again.

Sasuke had not been at the Academy that Monday. The rest of his comrades were (for at least half the day and had left by lunchtime) but none would tell the reason of his absence. Finally, I gave up my search. After all, I had directions in my head and a map of Konoha's entire metropolis in my bag. If they wouldn't tell me, I'd find him myself—for the sole reason of getting my phone back of course, and nothing more. And maybe I also had the slightest curiosity to see Sasuke's residence, but that was all.

The upcoming quest had given me something to look forward to, and I floated through the universal monotony of Mondays with silver wings. Soon school was over, and then I was off—out of the Academy's grounds and ambling down the avenue before anyone I knew caught me in a conversational chit chat. Mechanically, I took the book map out of my bag and flipped it open, staring at the myriad of intersecting lines, latitudes and longitudes, and the muddled bouquet of street names and boulevards all clashed together in a single mind-numbing page. I turned the leaf over, only to see the same disarray on a different angle and magnified. Overwhelmed, I closed the tome.

One tiny factor that completely slipped my mind: I was clueless when it came to maps. I had a good sense of direction in a familiar place, even when I've only been there once. But in an area I'd never been to, save for the occasional drive-bys in my parents' SUV, lasting not long enough to familiarize the site, my senses of direction vanished to zilch. Still wandering, I recalled Sai's directions. South of the neighbourhood, outside the suburbs; the first thing I had to do was get out of the suburban vicinity, southward. It took ten or so minutes for the uptown estates to fade away behind me, the large houses and chic patios turning into aged one-stories and small, unkempt lawns. The melting snow formed grimy puddles along the slightly uneven streets, slowing me down.

I read a random street sign:_ 12th Ave. _That was another thing that made it fairly obvious when you'd left the estates. Street names here were consisted of numbers that ranged all the way to four-digits, as if the government had somehow spent all their creativity on the street names of the upper community's boulevards that they just dumped a bunch of numerals on the less-modernized section of the borough.

In any case, to put my entire expedition simply: I got lost, became directionally disoriented, lost all my bearings, walked around until I was back to my initiating point and started all over again. Needless to say the place was certainly easier to look for in the dark when I was half-asleep and mentally unconscious. I'd ditched the map a long time ago and relied purely on instincts. Finally, after much endeavour, I found the intersection of Fifty-second and Woodlands. One-three-nine-seven, I repeated in my head. One-three-nine-seven.

It wasn't houses along the road of Woodlands but a mass of apartment buildings, with occasional washed out duplexes here and there. By then it didn't take long for me to pick out what was a group home. The pallid, two-story house was unusually larger than its surrounding residences, its width stretching out longer than the common abode; windows were embedded horizontally along the two floors, with a large two-door entrance at the end of a jagged pathway and a broad, simple patio.

Drawing in a deep breath, I made my way to the house and tapped the front door. Inside was a loud mix of obnoxious voices and brash music. I knocked again, harder this time.

"Door!" someone shouted, yet several seconds later I still found myself waiting. For the third time, I knocked. "Someone open the freakin' door!" bellowed another person.

"I got it," a secondary voice hollered as the door unlocked and swung open. Looking up I was met by the ashen white orbs that belonged to Hyuuga Neji. At the sight of me, his brow raised. "Good...afternoon," he greeted courteously, however hesitantly. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, um, is Sasuke here?"

"Yes," Neji replied, opening the door wider as he motioned for me to enter, "Uh, come in." His manners amazed me; then again, despite being a delinquent, despite having been called a "disgrace" to the family name—according to Hinata's father—Hyuuga blood still ran in his veins, and the old-fashioned etiquette was something their family was famous for. That included Neji. Even with this fact already in my mind, however, I was still astounded when Neji's hands landed gently on my shoulders to slip off my coat.

"Oh." I reacted like an uncultured child, "Thanks."

"I'll go get Uchiha." He nodded curtly before leaving. I looked around. A hallway stretched out to the right, while to my left: a living room. No wall frames, no vases, no decorations, not the slightest trace of feminine touch; everything from the ceiling down to the floor was plain and clean and unadorned.

"Well," a voice chided, and I discovered that I was not alone. Jugo, a boy with jagged hair and a strange, eerie expression, sat on the couch, staring at me. "This is new."

"Why, what's the matter?" another voice asked and soon enough someone was peering around the corner: Kankuro, I recognized him from the heavy, feminine make-up. His eyebrow rose upon the sight of me, eyes judgingly scanning my body from head to toe as if I were some kind of alien.

On cue, Suigetsu appeared in the living room. "Oh," he grinned at me, "Hey you,"—which I assumed was the closest I'd get to a normal greeting in this testosterone-filled household. I noticed Sai in the background, staring, smirking. Kiba, beside him, nodded a quick acknowledgement before turning away. Well, I thought blandly, this was no doubt the oddest welcoming I've ever gotten.

"Uchiha!" Neji's voice thundered through the hall; and a drowsy but audible "Fuck off" (from Sasuke, no doubt) came from inside a room. I heard Neji sigh. "You've got a visitor."

"Someone I'm actually allowed to see?" was Sasuke's sarcastic reply.

"I'm pretty sure it's someone you'd _want _to see either way!" Kiba shouted in response. I was beginning to think yelling was their customary way of conversation.

"Come out," ordered Neji.

"_What_?" Sasuke exclaimed, suddenly appearing at the end of the hall, innocently dishevelled yet seductively shirtless. His hair was chaotic, spiked up in disarray in all the right places; his eyes were dazed but glaring, clearly frustrated over his interrupted slumber. He wasn't over-the-top brawny, I noticed, but was muscled just right that he looked strong, an exterior that balanced between boyish and manly... actually, _what_ am I doing?

I tore my eyes away from him, before my once-overs turned into stares. "Damn it, Neji, I'm going to kill—" he halted, his slothful look turning into that of surprise as he saw me, visibly dumbfounded. "Sakura. What the hell are you doing here?"

"How welcoming," Suigetsu piped, grinning from the sidelines. "If you don't want her, then I'll—"

"No." Sasuke said firmly as he strode forward and clasped a grip on my upper arm to lug me out of the front room. As he treaded down the hall with me in tow, I followed after him wordlessly, taking in my surroundings with keen interest. Coming to a stop in front of an unpretentious entrance, Sasuke announced, "My room."

I did what any individual would have done when someone opened the door for them: I went in, only to find Nara Shikamaru, my best-friend's current obsession, getting dressed in a corner. Let me get this straight, I did not see anything. He was already half-clothed when I walked in, anyway. But still, it was only a natural reaction to scream. And so I did.

"Shit!" the brunette swore at the sudden intrusion. In one instinctive motion, I shut my eyes and whirled around, bumping into the bare chest of Uchiha Sasuke. I was too shocked to move away, but it wasn't as though I could've if I wanted to. On what I presumed was instincts, Sasuke's hand automatically landed on the small of my back and kept me in place, preventing me, I supposed, from turning around.

"Way to change on a perfect timing." Sasuke indolently remarked, "Put some clothes on, Shikamaru."

"_You're_ the one to talk." The other boy grumbled, as the hasty ruffling of clothes echoed in the background.

Sasuke sighed. Our proximity caused me to shudder as I felt the very air that came from his mouth on the bridge of my nose. As though that wasn't enough to make me flush, Sasuke leaned down to my level, and suddenly I felt him breathing into my ear: "You can open your eyes now." Blinking, I was met by Sasuke's highly amused expression, eyes floating in laughter. Averting from the Uchiha's smug smirk, I slowly spun about and caught sight of Shikamaru, now fully clothed with his gaze narrowed in slits. I smiled apologetically.

"Don't mind him." Sasuke dismissed as the boy genius wordlessly whipped past us and slammed the door. "You can sit down. The left one's my bed." He nodded towards the said object pushed off to the corresponding side of the room. Hesitantly, I sat, silently watching as Sasuke rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a plain, black tee shirt; darker shades of grey had always been his signature color. For once, I wanted to visualize him in white, something brighter than the usual black.

He pulled the piece of clothing over his head, covering what previously his bare upper body. Turning, Sasuke tilted his head and stared at me in question; I gave him a you-know-what look in response. "Right." He stated brusquely, jerking himself off the wall he'd been leaning against, "You're phone. It's in the garage—you gonna be okay by yourself?"

"Oh, yeah." I answered all too eagerly and watched with unspoken zeal as he nodded and went out the door. At first, I merely observed my exotic surroundings; the entire room, to my amazement, was utterly organized; the bed sheets were unruffled, the ground was without any stray clothes. While only half as big as my room, and with there being two people living here, the area wasn't claustrophobic; it was... rather snug, actually.

Soon, I was fidgeting. Plain observation wasn't enough to quench my curious gaiety. Giving in to my inquisitive nature, I stood and took this opportunity to look around. Sasuke's side was a little neater than Shikamaru's. There weren't a lot of furniture; two single beds, two closets, a shelf, a desk and two drawers—one of them that belonged to Sasuke. I walked over to the new object of my interest; atop the drawer were several pictures and an old camera. I skimmed through the prints and realized they were taken by Sasuke. They were pretty good; random photos ranging from an abandoned playground, to a brilliant sunrise and much more, even pictures of themselves, the guys, fooling around in the sidewalk, the park; captured moments of their everyday lives. Uchiha Sasuke took up photography as a habit. Who knew?

Beside the camera were two frames: the first was a picture of his family, and the other was he and his brother. Both photographs were taken on the same day, dating all the way back around nine years ago. My fingers touched the delicate rim of the portrait. Sasuke, a six or seven-year-old Sasuke, was in the arms of his brother, caught laughing as the older Uchiha had him in a playful headlock. He was smiling too, just as wide, on the other picture, in a warm embrace of his mother and his father's proud hold. He was once so happy, so jovial, that I began to wonder: _what happened? _What could have transformed him from a happy child to an empty shell of indifference?

"—Sakura?" the sudden voice had me jumping out of my skin. Thinking it was Sasuke I immediately sat down on the bed and hoped he hadn't caught me, all to find that it was Sai who stood in the doorway. He walked in uninvited and settled on the spot beside me. "So you still came?" He questioned directly, "Even when I warned you—"

"You're wrong about him." I stated, cutting him off; already I knew his following words, a negative critique on Sasuke's persona. For once, I opposed. Sai frowned in discord. "He's not horrible." I tried to make him understand, tried to make _myself _understand. For the first time I saw Sasuke in a different light and found that inside that empty shell of indifference was a trace of humanity, when all these years I thought he was made of stone. I'd been wrong.

"Do you know, Sakura, why he's not allowed to leave the house?" Uncertainly, I shook my head. "Sasuke's under open custody; and as part of his rehabilitation, there're a few people he's restricted from seeing. The other day he... broke that rule and talked to someone he shouldn't have. Kakashi was furious when he found out."

Why was he telling me all this? "Was it that man last Friday?" I asked instead, suspicious, "The one in the coat?"

"Yes." He replied, "Well, he's _one _of them." I frowned at the ambiguity of his statement, but before I could utter anything he began again, "Sakura, listen..."

And the following events occurred in a blur. Suddenly his hand clasped mine in a firm and tender hold, and his gaze of concern drilled into me as he said in precaution, "There are a lot of dangerous people in Sasuke's life. I don't want you to get caught up in that." Dangerous?

"But he's not bad anymore. He... changed. He's different now." I insisted, more to myself than him, barring all that he'd just said, barring the rapid beating in my chest that was the result of his touch. It wasn't thrill, or a fretting kind of nervousness; rather, the sensation was more... an uncanny anxiety. His fingers were slender and cold over mine, his palms large and encompassing compared to my own. "Sasuke's not a monster."

Yet I heard the uncertainty from my own words, and Sai did too. In reply, he gave a slick, unpredictable smile that rendered me to confusion, as my new-found faith in Sasuke began to falter. "Sakura...Sakura..." I froze as he leaned forward, closer and closer until the distance between us shortened to an inch. Then, frostily, he whispered into my ear,

"You _really_ think you know him, do you?"

The door slammed open.

"_Get out!_"

Startled at the booming demand that suddenly exploded in the room, I instinctively jerked away from Sai—but his grip on my hand tightened, unwilling to let me go. I already knew who the intruder was, knew all too well that hateful roar of fury that was once unleashed on me. This time though, it was aimed towards the smiling statue seated beside me. How Sai could be so calm under the killing gaze of the enraged Uchiha Sasuke, I didn't know. Slowly, dreadfully, I looked up and for a moment, only for a moment, jade met onyx, before his eyes wandered everywhere, shifting from Sai to me, down to where our hands intertwined, then back to me, back to Sai. Ephemeral flashes of melancholy, ire, betrayal, hate and confusion zipped through his obsidian orbs, before he recomposed himself and put on the shell of indifference as he uttered the hardened order: "Get out, Sai, _now _or I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" Sai challenged with the same kind of apathy. Their frigid personalities, while immensely identical, clashed. "With Sakura in the room, I doubt you'll do anything bad." I was relieved when Sai finally slipped his hands off mine and stood unperturbedly, "But don't worry, I'm already gone. Goodbye Sakura." To me he gave a curt nod, and to Sasuke, the artist simply smiled, which scorched the rampant fire in him even more. Making his way around the Uchiha, Sai walked out the door.

Wordlessly, Sasuke reached into his pocket and in one unexpected motion, he aggressively threw a phone at me. I caught my flying cellular milliseconds before it hit my face—which I'm sure was exactly what Sasuke was aiming for. He uttered one word and one word only, "Leave." but it was enough to render me scrambling for the exit. Just before I was fully outside though, he added, nodding towards the phone in my hand, "Someone kept calling."

"...who was it?"

At my uncertainty, he flinched, and I almost felt bad; almost, until he replied coldly, "I don't know. Maybe it's your Sai." Then, without a goodbye, without even a last glance, Sasuke closed the door on my face. I gawked. _My _Sai? Oh, that _jerk. _Exasperated, I made my way down the hall and out the crammed house, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

"Sakura?" I blinked and found Gaara approaching from the other end of the pathway, evidently stunned upon seeing me here. "Why are you here?"

"I came to pick something up." I explained, "I was just leaving—hey, what about you?" the question slipped from my mouth as I remembered the news, or gossip, I'd perceived a day before. "You okay? I... heard about Temari." His eyes visibly darkened as he gave an inaudible _Oh. _"Have you told the police?"

The question alarmed him, "What? No. No, it's not as serious as it looks. Temari's fine, she's just...not here right now; but she's fine, really. Kankuro's just freaking out for no reason." _Kankuro? _He saw the immediate query in my expression, for he explained afterwards, "We're brothers."

"Really?" I exclaimed, "Any more siblings I don't know about?"

He grinned, "It's just the three of us." I couldn't help but return his smile.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise." I turned around at the intermediary voice, but already I recognized who it belonged to. Stepping out of a glossy black sedan was Hatake Kakashi, his sole visible eye twinkling with astonishment as it moved back and forth between me and Gaara, causing the red-haired boy to back away a step. I bitterly thanked the old man in my head. "Gaara, there's groceries in the trunk. Fetch someone to help you carry them in the house." With a nod, Gaara complied. To me, Kakashi said, "Well, Sakura, just the person I wanted to see."

"Am I in trouble?" I asked him jokingly, "Or did my parents call you again to check up on me?"

"For the latter, yes." he replied, his tone deadpan. "For the first though, you tell me."

Slowly, my face scrunched in a confused frown. There was a kind of probing seriousness in Kakashi's voice that I put me in unease. "No... I'm _not _in trouble. I'm fine."

"Really?" At my unsure nod, he went on gravely, "Sakura, about three, four weeks ago we got a partial call at the station and traced it back to your house."

Oh.

"It may have been accidentally, and I thought of that. That is, until last Saturday, when we got another call, this time from your security system."

"I didn't get any call." I said, surprised at the news, "I took the phone lines out because... uh, it was being loud at night. I probably didn't hear the phone ring."

"But someone answered."

I froze. "Say that again?"

"Your father answered." Kakashi said warily.

"What did he say?"

"He said everything was fine, 'perfectly fine'." Suddenly, Kakashi's frown deepened, ", "Was your father home on Saturday morning? It sure didn't sound like—"

"It was a friend." I reasoned quickly; right then it came to me just who had answered the phone, the same person, I strongly presumed, that had so quietly broken into my house and hooked back up the phone line in the living room. It was _him. _"It really doesn't matter. It was a false alarm. Everything's cool." I was babbling. "Uh, I'm gonna go. I was already leaving anyway. Sasuke found my phone, but I got it back now, so..."

"Going home?" Kakashi asked, and I was relieved at the change of subject, happy that he'd decided to drop the matter. I knew, however, that though it had been put away for the moment, it wasn't entirely forgotten. Kakashi would drill me for answers some other day. I nodded. "I'll give you a ride. I'm headed back to the Academy anyway." I hesitated, though before any kind of objection came from my mouth, Kakashi cut me off, "Just get in. As your unofficial babysitter whenever your parents are away, I'll be killed if I let you wander around this area alone."

As a close friend of my father's, Kakashi had always checked up on me whenever my parents were away, and hitching a ride from him was considered wholly normal. Still I hesitated at the sight of his car, or rather the cherry top planted on its roof, rotating beacons that only belonged atop a cop car. Though it was inactive and Kakashi's car could not look any more casual, the bulb still screamed OFFICER, and to be stepping out of it when I got home screamed ARRESTED. Nevertheless, I did not prefer walking home in the muddy snow; left with no other choice I followed after the odd grey-haired man.

Gaara passed by me, bags of groceries in both hands. He smiled and, as a reflex, I found the edges of my lips turning upward as well. "I've got to go." I told him, "It was nice seeing you."

His smile did not cease, though something about it caught my attention. It looked... aggrieved. My smile faded in worry, though he whispered, in a soft, flowing voice, "You too." I wanted to say something more, to console him of whatever it was that was troubling him, but I was interrupted when a chiding gibe came from behind us.

"Cut it out," Kankuro muttered, rolling his eyes as he whipped passed us, arms filled with grocery bags. "You're not dying. No need to get all dramatic."

Once his brother had gone away, Gaara shook his head, partly in aggravation. He gave a nod before following his older sibling inside the house. I, on the other hand, followed Kakashi inside the car. The ride was quiet, and for that I was thankful. I took the opportunity to engulf in my thoughts, everything that nagged my brain at the current moment. The unheard phone call, the one apparently answered; I knew who had picked up the phone. It terrified me; however, in all actuality, it wasn't all that unexpected.

What puzzled my mind most though, was the matter concerning Gaara, or rather his supposedly missing sister. Shikamaru was worried, although I would put his apprehension as guilt rather than concern. It was Sai who seemed to be well-informed, telling me she was gone. But Gaara stated otherwise, saying she was fine. I found the reverse differentiation odd, that's all. If she wasn't missing, why would Sai make it up? And if she was, then why would Gaara deny it? I touched my forehead, now aching in confusion. Really, it was none of my business, but I couldn't help having the inherited urge to figure out everything that needed figuring out.

Temari did not concern Sai at all, so why would he lie about her missing? He wasn't even close with any of the siblings; he didn't even have anything to do with their family. That's why he couldn't have lied. That's why Gaara _must_ have; which left me with a more enthralling question:

Why would _he_ make up a false tale_?_

* * *

**Gaara**

For exactly one whole week now his older brother had continuously (and humiliatingly) pointed out his apparent liking for the pink-haired lass. Kankuro's taunting commenced that very night he'd escorted Sakura home. The older boy caught him coming home at two in the morning, and his idiot of a brother had seen him with the girl out by the street an hour before. After then, Kankuro's side comments became endless; endless and unbearable.

Back then he would have straight out denied it, but now... no longer was there a point to delude him of something that he knew was true.

He was fond of Sakura and disliked it whenever she was around the Uchiha—which only further proved his liking for her.

But it was wrong. God, it was wrong. No, he thought again, liking her was alright. It was everything else that went on around him mixed with that fact that was so completely wrong.

And dangerous.

And dishonest.

But it wasn't as if he was committing a crime. If he handled things right, everything would turn out well and what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. No one would be harmed. In fact these contemplations were a mere result of panic. In actuality there was nothing to worry about; he was magnifying the gravity of the situation a little too much. It wasn't even all that serious, he told himself. His own, personal affairs under-the-table wouldn't hurt anyone.

She would never have to know.

* * *

_Author's Note: Gah! I meant to update, but I don't have internet right now, and I'm just using my Dad's laptop. Thank you for all your recommendations! I've read... about half of them, and I'm going to continue reading when I get my internet back! lol My time's limited, so I've really gotta go. Hope you guys liked that chapter! _

_**Read, Review and Thank You! **Next update will be.... gawsh, I dunno. Let's all hope Shaw Internet hurries it up and give me back my internet. x) In the meantime, you can all motivate me by sending feedbacks. =]_

_With gratitude,  
Keelah_


	28. Death in Detail

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_I only knew all too well...what he was craving for._

_Another prey._

_His desire for a bloodbath swelled, and only I was to quench that thirst..._

_Our game, our sick and twisted game, was back in play._

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN  
**__**Death in Detail**_

All deliberations regarding the red-head boy and his sister's supposed disappearance waned from my mind the moment I became aware of a change in my little black phone. For the past five or so minutes I'd been unconsciously browsing through the object while I contemplated over the oddity of Temari's whereabouts. Half of me wondered what reason Gaara could have for lying about her missing, while the other half did something entirely off-topic: I made sure all my mobile's data was still in place. I knew Sasuke didn't seem the type to deliberately delete stuff off my phone, but I had to check. From my quick, subconscious inspection I found nothing erased, but rather something else: something _added_.

I detected the slight alteration as I skimmed through my phonebook. Where Ino's name was supposed to be on my speed-dials, I was dumfounded to discover another title there instead. Oddly enough Ino was repositioned to number eight, while currently sitting on the number one throne, it said:

**Sasuke Uchiha:  
727-8538**

I could only think of a single person who was bigheaded enough to put his own name in number one. It didn't take a genius to figure it out—after all, the indication was right there on the screen—yet I couldn't believe it. The new stored data was surprising; however it was the following message below it that caught me off-guard. At the very bottom of the display, entered in the Memo section, a note read:

**Just in case.  
****Don't ever hesitate to call.**

Unknowingly, a smile began to form across my lips.

_You really think you know him, do you?_ Sai's words reverberated in my head. I realized then that he had a point. I thought I had Sasuke all figured out, but now I saw I didn't know him a hundred percent after all. He wasn't entirely good, but he wasn't entirely bad either. He was cold, yet tender; outspoken yet sensitive; arrogant, yet reserved; uncaring but considerate.

Never had Sasuke been as straightforward as black and white.

He was all the shades in between.

I read his note over, again and again, until every word was stamped undyingly on my brain; I didn't want to forget his rare words of benevolence. Sasuke scarcely said anything that wasn't in a form of censure or insult, but at the occasional times when he did, I knew, amid the subtleness, that he meant every word. I tried to imagine Sasuke playing around with my phone; the image of him storing his own name and number at the very first of my speed-dial was implausible, yet charming. Uchiha, to me, was ceaselessly mystifying.

But needless to say, there was a downside to all positive occurrences. Where there waited something pleasant, there was also something unpleasant. My thoughts on Sasuke were abruptly cut short as soon as I found another revelation on my phone. The device, it seemed, contained much more surprises than I could handle. Scanning through the rest of my phonebook, I found a hiccup on the Call History; a small star was beside it in notification.

**8 Missed Calls (View) **Suddenly I remembered Sasuke's statement, just before he'd rudely slammed the door on the face: someone kept calling. Eight times, apparently. Deep in thought I wondered who could possibly have wanted to talk to me that bad. Curiosity got the best of me. I clicked it open.

_**R **__(Unknown Number)_

R, I repeated the letter numbly in my head, R.

Only one person; only one would call eight times in a row just to get a hold of me, a person without a number, without a name, without a face. R, the letter undoubtedly denoted _Rogue_. It was him. It could only be him. As if on cue a shrill, bell-like shriek filled the entire car, the loud sound coming from the small vibrating device in my hand. Suddenly Sasuke's message was removed, the comfort gone along with it, replaced by another window that now pervaded the screen, a blinking notice. Involuntarily, I opened it.

New Text Message (1)

**From: R (Unknown Number) 17:03  
**_**Sakura, it's been a while. I think we should play again.  
Who do you have in mind this time?**_

"Sakura?" _Inescapable_, the word echoed, _inescapable. _"Sakura," Kakashi called out again from the seat beside me, breaking through my trance, "We're here."

But I couldn't move. I saw my house through the tinted windows of the vehicle and knew what I was supposed to do: open the car door, walk out, thank Kakashi, and go inside the house. I imagined myself doing those things in my head again and again, yet a second later I was returned to the same spot, permanently glued into the car seat. I was numb and sedated.

I only knew all too well what he was talking about, what he was craving for.

He was asking for another victim.

Another prey.

It's been days since I've last given him a name, since I've last fed the killing monster inside of him, and I've stalled long enough. His desire for a bloodbath swelled, and only I was to quench that thirst. I was almost certain of what I'd unearth inside that house, in my room, on my computer. I dreaded to find out, despite the fact that I already knew.

A question would be there, waiting for me on my desktop; a brusque and direct million-dollar question that I was all too familiar with, anticipating for an answer...

_**Who's next?**_

Our game, our sick and twisted game, was back in play.

Ready...

Set...

_Kill_.

* * *

I was right. I almost laughed at the bitter predictability of seeing an instant message on my computer from the Rogue, asking the exact question.

Just like every other time, I said no, knowing the attempt was futile. My refusal only angered him.

**Rogue: Have you **_**forgotten **_**what I am capable of **_**doing?!**_ **Or do you need to be reminded of that?**

Just like every other time, I gave him no answer.

**Rogue: ...I guess that means you **_**do **_**need a reminder**

**Rogue: Just wait Sakura. Just you wait.**

And just like every other time, dreadfully and helplessly, I waited.

* * *

School the next day was an indistinct blur that went by unbearably slow, made up of nothing more than a mesh of lessons and meaningless socializing crammed within eight long hours. For the whole morning, words entered one ear and departed from the other, events zipped past without me ever noticing, and I couldn't seem to pay attention long enough to make sense out of anything.

I was within a bubble of my own head, and everything else that was outside my train of thought seemed not of any importance. I was too distracted to pay attention to the regularities of the day, preoccupied by the unavoidable matters at hand that solely awaited instigation from my computer. From me.

It was my word that he was waiting for, my word served as the trigger to his hunt. Yet a trigger was merely a non-living object. He was the human that controlled me; he was the one who fired.

Despite the long dullness of the day, dismissal came all too soon, and before I knew it I was heading towards the last place on earth that I wanted to be. Home. I noted a difference about the house the second I turned around the corner, and right away I discerned what it was. My parents were home; and I was sure of this even with the great distance ahead. The black SUV parked inside the open garage had been a big give-away, as was the bright lights that emitted off windows of all three floors.

The sense of presence within the typically empty house had me walking faster, this time in excitement. I forgot, at least for a little while, all about the Rogue and the dilemmas he'd brought along with him. Speedily I made my way across the yard and up the front porch steps. "Mom?" I called out as soon as I opened the doors, "Daddy? Are you here?"

"In the kitchen, honey!" called out a warm, soprano voice that I knew for certain belonged to my mother. I followed the sound and was greeted into her welcoming embrace. Mom kissed me on the cheek while my dad, seated in the middle of the area on the island, grinned widely behind the thick paperwork splayed out before him.

"Hey kiddo." he said.

"You're home!" I exclaimed in disbelief and went over to give him a quick hug. "Why didn't you tell me? You could've called or something."

"Oh, we tried," Dad replied, "But you left your phone in the house." Right, I remembered now; I had purposely ditched the object this morning so as to avoid any more unsolicited messages.

"Speaking of your phone," my mom started with a crafty tone that put me to unease, as she took my phone from the counter and flaunted it. "Who's Sasuke, dear? The name sounds familiar." I nearly chocked, all the more when her smile widened teasingly. Dad, watching by the sidelines, coughed.

"Just a friend. Why do you ask?"

"Well he can't just be a friend, he's number one on your speed-dial! I haven't been probing, I just happened to see." Translation: she _was _probing; I meant it when I said nosiness ran in our family. In the background, Dad's eyes rolled.

"It's a long story, Mom." I told her uncomfortably, seizing the phone from her hand. "I'm gonna go upstairs, okay? Love you, glad you guys are home."

"Wait, Sakura, hang on." I halted midway through the kitchen doors and watched as Dad pulled out a strange, darkly coloured envelope that did not quite belong with a heap of traditional documents. "There's something here for you. It was in the mail."

"Who's it from?"

"I don't know," Dad said, baffled. "There's no return address, no stamp. Looks like it was delivered by hand."

"Is it from Sasuke?" my mother gibed excitedly in a childish manner. I chose to ignore her and took the article from my Dad before leaving the kitchen. "Dinner's going to be at six, honey!" she called out as I treaded up the stairs. Once inside my room, I routinely dropped my bag on the floor by the doorway, took my jacket off and set aside my phone on the desk. Without even bothering to change clothes, I collapsed onto the bed and stared at the peculiar envelope that was in my hand.

I flipped it over, back and forth, left and right, as I inspected it in every angle. My name was written beautifully in silver lining (literally) on the securely sealed flap. The covering was predominantly black; and as if that in itself wasn't unusual enough, the border was embellished with a strange, formless pattern in bright red ink, its fluid contours forebodingly resembling blood. I weighed the packet in my hand, engrossed by its mass and breadth. There was something more inside it than an average piece of paper, though I couldn't tell what it was by simply examining its exterior.

Carefully, I ripped the envelope open and pulled out its contents.

There, staring right back at me with a lifeless gaze, was Kin—or what was left of her, anyway. Her body, scraped and bleeding, was knotted in awkward angles and lay in a twisted heap on the ground. Her lower half was crushed exceedingly; her legs were shattered, with one limb halfway severed from the rest of her body. Bones stuck out through ripped skin and organs that were meant to be internal were scattered in gory mounds across the crimson stained pavement. Shadows of tire marks as thick as a yard were evidently blemished across the carcass. Crushed to death.

But that wasn't all. With trembling fingers, I lifted the picture of Kin and found another print behind it. Another cadaver; this time, of Dosu's. His body, unlike Kin, was still intact; he had a few bruises here and there, but it was his head that sported the most damage. His face was battered, cheeks and left eye critically swollen, raw from beatings; his nose, broken and bent abnormally; and his lips, chapped. However the most startling image was that of back of his head. A deep, long gash ran right down the middle, slicing through the nerves and tissues, gruesomely splitting his skull in half. Splinters of bones chaotically surrounded the wound, and the profuse leak of blood from it was captured by the camera professionally and disgustingly. Deep into the very core of the ghoulish injury was a dash of cerise, something pastel and sodden. It took a moment for me to realize just what I was looking at. A peek of Dosu's brain. He, too, stared insensibly into my eyes. Beaten to death.

The third print was of a little girl; I've seen this before, in the playground with my very own eyes, but I was in too much shock then to pay attention to the details of her death. This time, I had the unfortunate opportunity. The little girl did not have wounds as bloody and ghastly as the previous two, save for the couple grazes here and there, and obvious raw spots of forced captivity. But it was her that showed the most struggle. Kin and Dosu's demise, although violent and excruciating, was quick; they both died at the moment of impact, and their pain must've lasted only a second or two before eternal numbness overcame them. This little girl, however, died slowly. Her neck possessed red marks caused by a tight, merciless grasp that undoubtedly wrapped around it, and her mouth gaped open breathlessly in frantic need of air. Moegi was her name, I remembered clearly. How could I possibly forget? Though it was merely a picture, panic and fear was evident in her eyes. She was going to die—that was one thing that made her death different from the other two's. She was utterly well aware of what was happening, and that was worse. Her empty gaze locked with mine. Choked to death.

Snapshots were what the envelope contained; clear and vivid photographs that expertly captured every gore, every injury, every drop of blood.

The amount of detail was enough to tell the disturbing story behind each picture; the photographs spoke for themselves. It was death in detail, magnified to an extent that made my stomach turn. It wasn't the thorough gore, however, that sickened me to the verge of throwing up. It was the corpses' unsettling gazes. Frozen and dead, yet their stares continued interminably—opened eyes of the deceased.

It was a closer look at lifelessness. Death.

At the back of each picture, written in a seamless calligraphy that I recognized all too well, it read:

_**Beautiful, isn't it?**_

My stomach rendered completely empty as I vomited its contents; I didn't know whether the effect was from the sight of too much blood, or if it was simply caused by the incessant guilt that overwhelmed my body at the very moment. Or if it was both, working together against me.

Once I was done, still shaking, I sat down onto the tiled floors of the lavatory and placed my head in between my knees. Air clogged up in my lungs and I had to continuously remind myself to breathe; _inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. _I redid the procedure until my expiratory system began to function once again.

No matter how tight I shut my eyes, or how hard I tried to clear my head, crystal-clear images of dead bodies still managed to seep through and contaminate my thoughts. Lost in another world where I desperately attempted to calm myself and get rid of the nasty visuals in my head, I remained in the bathroom and soon lost track of time.

It was my mother's voice that broke my trance.

"Dinner in twenty minutes!" she called out. Dinner was at six, she'd said; therefore it was twenty minutes to six. I'd been in the same position for nearly an hour and a half. I shifted, stretching my aching muscles now sore from the protracted immobility; my neck was stiff and my back was numb. I groaned; I could've moped around on my bed, why had I opted for the cold, hard tiles of the bathroom?

Dazedly, I stood up and walked back towards the bed. The pictures were scattered all over the mattress, flaunted proudly before my eyes; the time I'd spent in the bathroom forgetting the very images were instantly thrown to waste as they came crashing back in my brain. Anesthetised, I gathered the pictures and tossed them at the very rear of my closet, behind the stacks of clothing and accessories where I could never see them again.

A message was waiting for me on the desktop when I returned to my room.

Helplessly, I sat before the computer and prepared for what was coming.

**Rogue: Hoped you liked that little souvenir**

**lilpinkchiq: You're... horrible**

**Rogue: I already know that. So what do you say? Who's it going to be this time?**

**lilpinkchiq: You. Kill yourself.**

**Rogue: That is not an option. If you don't give me a name, I shall choose for myself.**

**Rogue: ...and it won't be my fault if it just happens to be someone close to you.**

I frowned warily.

**Rogue: Do you know, Sakura, what your parents are doing this very moment?**

_No. _I thought in disbelief, _No, not my parents...._

**Rogue: your Mom, innocently cooking in the kitchen. She resembles you, naive-looking, but she's feisty on the inside—like you. A criminal lawyer, eh? I hate lawyers. They're two-faced and manipulative. I wouldn't mind seeing her gone.**

**Rogue: And your father? He's on the dining table, working again. That's all he ever does, doesn't he? A business man on demand in the security department. I hear he's very successful. Let's see how he does when he's on demand in the cemetery.**

**lilpinkchiq: Stay **_**away**_** from my family!**

**Rogue: I can't. I'm already so close to them Sakura, they just have **_**no**_** idea. I'm right here, by the big window in the kitchen. It just baffles me why you Harunos' never close your curtains. You just think no one could ever get to you, don't you? Just because you've got the biggest house on the block and the highest security call, you think you're safe.**

**Rogue: But you aren't, Sakura. Not from me. **

**Rogue: Never from me.**

**lilpinkchiq: my parents aren't involved in this, stay away from them!**

**Rogue: You know what I can do, right, Sakura? Those pictures should be a good reminder.**

**Rogue: Mommy and Daddy wouldn't even have time to react. I could end their rich-ass lives in an instant, but I won't do that. I never do that. Because I'm generous, I give them time to react. I'd give them time to scream, Sakura, scream and scream until they're **_**dead**_**.**

I was quivering now as the images he'd sent me whirled in my head like an immense, destructive tornado; only this time, they were faces of Mom and Dad. He was here—big surprise—and he was watching my parents, imagining a hundred different ways he could kill them. With unsteady fingers, I typed,

**lilpinkchiq: you **_**sick**_** monster**

**Rogue: I will KILL them Sakura.**

I whimpered.

**Rogue: Frankly I'm tired of waiting, and your disobedient attitude is getting on my nerves. If you don't give me a prey, I give you my word I **_**will **_**kill them. **

"Don't," I whispered as I tried to picture my parents, sitting in the kitchen unaware of the murderous eyes that watched them this very moment. They had _no _idea, innocent, yet they were going to _die. _Because of _me_. "God, this isn't happening."

**Rogue: I will count one to three, Sakura. And if you don't give me a damn name by the time I get to zero... well, you know who's gonna die.**

I wanted to run downstairs, to tell my parents to run, or warn them, at the very least. But what good would that do? We'd all be dead in the second I moved out of my seat.

**Rogue: 3**

**lilpinkchiq: My parents have done nothing to do with this!**

**Rogue: 2**

**lilpinkchiq: leave them out of it!**

**Rogue: 1**

**lilpinkchiq: Karin.**

Oh _god._

My head fell into the palm of my heads as it shook right and left in continuous denial. _I did not. I did not just—_

**Rogue: ...good.**

_No._

_**Rogue has logged off.**_

* * *

It was done. Done, and there was nothing I could do to take back what I'd said.

He won, once again. Just like any other time.

I stood sharply and drew back as distant from the computer as I could, though I didn't get very far before my knees gave away beneath me, and I collapsed, gasping, on the floor. What have I _done? _Everything that happened before was occurring all over again and I just let it. I was powerless to stop it.

The Rogue, I was beginning to think, was unbeatable, just as he was unavoidable. And the Rogue, to me at this moment, was the very definition of the word Death itself. While he was out there ending the lives of other people, he was killing me too, on the inside. Each death chipped away at my brain and bravery. I couldn't think anymore, not with all those lifeless eyes staring back at me everywhere I turned, each time my eyelids fell shut; and no longer was I capable of opposing him. I was weakening—as though I wasn't already vulnerable to begin with.

Tears streamed down my face.

Karin.

She was dead, she was as good as dead the moment I typed her name on my keyboard. Another life ended in the hands of the Rogue, by my instructions.

I sobbed. _"I'm sorry," _I murmured over and over, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

I didn't mean it. I panicked. I couldn't just sit in my room while he murdered my parents downstairs. Karin was the first person that popped in my mind. She was mean, and she was bitchy, but I didn't want to _kill _her!

"_I'm sorry..."_

What could I possibly do to stop him? How could I stop someone who was inexorable? It was out of my hands, yet sitting here and letting him kill all those people was making me insane. I didn't want to die. One wrong refusal and I was dead. One wrong word and he'd kill my friends and family without a hesitation. I couldn't let that happen.

I shook my head ceaselessly, as my arms wrapped around my body in attempt to stop myself from quavering.

I was cold, I was confused and I was scared.

In this world of death, I was alone; and I despite my attempts I couldn't break out of it. I saw nothing but the faces and eyes of the people that died because of me; I felt nothing but the dread and fear that the Rogue had permanently installed in me; and I heard nothing but this deafening heartbeat of mine as the organ threatened to explode out of my chest. I've never felt so alone.

Alone and confused and scared.

I didn't know what to do.

So I did the only thing that I could think of, the only thing that would keep me from the lunacy I was so closely approaching. Mechanically, I stood and walked over to my desk. Taking the mobile phone with frozen fingers, I had only one button to press before it dialled automatically. My heart raced as I waited for the voice that would come to my rescue.

"Hi," I whispered, "It's me."

* * *

**Uchiha Sasuke**

He meant it when he said she could call anytime.

But he never expected she'd call _the_ _very next day._

He knew something was going on with her, something other than the average bad-hair-day, or PMS that all girls went through. This was... bigger, graver, and it made him wonder what it could be that tore her more and more every day. His suspicion had commenced weeks ago at Dosu's ceremony, upon seeing her so troubled when he knew she hadn't been grieving for the guy. It was something else. He simply didn't know. Yet.

However he wasn't going to start interrogating her, not right now. She seemed all too brittle to be faced by an endless set of questions coming from him. For now, he'd settle with being on call. He'll be a shoulder; that was okay. For now. When the time was right though, he'd make things right—though he didn't exactly know just how he'd carry out that venture, or _why _he was doing so for her in the first place.

But the moment he heard her enervated voice, he knew.

He knew, even if not specifically, what she was going through.

"_Hi."_

He knew she was confused.

"_It's me."_

He knew she was scared.

"Ten minutes," he told her, "I'll be there."

And already, he knew what to do.

* * *

_Author's Note: Is anyone else **obssessed **with **FMA: Brotherhood **right now?!?! 'Cause I'm just hooked. It's so freakin' gooood! I swear, I like it more than Bleach or Shippuden. lol_

_Nywayz, hope you liked that chapter! &I hope you guys take time to review, especially those who have this on alert&faves but whom I never hear from. I greatly appreciate each of yo__ur __feedbacks/comments, they're a significant part of my writing process._

_**Read, Review & Thank You!****  
**Gratefully,  
Keelah_

_(OH! That reminds me. Storytelling-time! See, I take an online class, which requires me to e-mail my teacher quite often. & due to habit, instead of signing my REAL name at the end of my message, I wrote "Keelah" instead. Ahahahhaha, I felt so stupid. x] )_


	29. Superficial

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

Makeup_ n_

_**1**__:_ _materials used in changing one's appearance_

_**2**__: a mask_

_(__**3**__: and my pathetic attempt to fool Sasuke.)_

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY EIGHT  
**__**Superficial**_

A deadened feeling pervaded my entire body, in addition to the black void that seemed to have replaced my brain—which clearly lacked the ability to function at the moment. I moved mechanically about the room, grabbing a fitting brown shirt and a pair of jeans as I changed into something other than the clothes I'd worn in school for the whole day. That being done, I stood before the full-length mirror embedded on a wall just by the entrance of my closet.

Orbs of faded emeralds stared back at me. Dried streaks of tears were apparent on my cheeks, and the puffiness of my eyes jumped out markedly, making my image worthy of comparison to an insomniac. Instinctively, I pulled out a small drawer, revealing a clutter of assorted cosmetics. I'd never been one for makeup; that had always been Ino's thing. I hated the feeling of indefinite chemicals and powders overlaying upon my skin. Whenever I was under the obligation to wear makeup (for performances and such back when I was younger and occasional parties where Ino would force me) I would always have the natural urge to rip off the superficial mask of prettiness. Ultra-thick foundations dried up my skin; eyeliner irritated my eyes; mascara blinded me; strong perfumes made me want to gag; and I always managed to somehow lick the lipstick off my lips before the coloring could even last an hour. Needless to say makeup disliked me, and the feeling was mutual.

Nonetheless, from the compartment, I extracted numerous cosmetic materials: foundation, eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, concealer and other items that I did not know names to. Possessing such things despite my obvious aversion to makeup was a result to having a cosmetic-maniac for a best friend. Ino had repeatedly remarked on the plainness of how I chose to doll up for school. The revamps I took on only went as far as I the clothes I wore; tats, diets, makeup, jewellery and other excessive refurbishing I never once considered. I'd never even permanently dyed my hair.

Yet despite all these, involuntarily, I applied each article one by one and began to build a face of vivacity. Before long, I was smothered with powder and oil and wax and cream and nylon and who knew what else. I made sure the dried tears were wiped off completely, and the redness of my eyes covered. In less than eight minutes, I was back to the image of a happy-go-lucky girl that could fool anyone. It would do for now.

Sasuke came within nine minutes and fifty seconds.

The smooth, recognizable sound of the doorbell rang once throughout the house, followed by a faint exclamation of "Door, please!" by my Mom—who was no doubt too preoccupied in cooking. Carelessly, I brushed my hair in one swift wave and hurried down the stairs before my dad got up to answer the door.

"I'll get it!" I called out; reaching my destination, already I knew who waited on the other side. I didn't specifically know what I called him for. It was mere instincts, and surely I did not voluntarily dial his number with a sane mind. One thing was for sure: I hadn't expected him to come, much less quickly. But for that, I was glad. Drawing in a deep breath, I opened the door ajar. Standing on my doorstep, clad in his usual thick, dark sweatshirt and jeans, was Sasuke. "Hi."

He frowned, instantly picking up the lack of enthusiasm. As his eyes drilled into mine, the crease on his forehead deepened; I felt naked, to be frank, as though he could see right through the facial mask I'd struggled to put on earlier like it was transparent plastic. I'd been wrong when I thought the makeup could fool anyone; clearly it did not fool Sasuke—which was something I should've known, really. It was my childhood foe that knew me more than most, and it was he that could read me like an open book, ironic as that was.

"You called."

"Yeah—but..." I halted, shaking my head. "I don't—I don't know what I was thinking, really, but I just... I needed..."

"I know," he cut me off gently.

Again, my head whipped from side to side. "You have no idea."

"I know more than you give me credit for."

My fingers tightened and gripped on the door sill in preparation to shut the door at my will's command. "I shouldn't have bothered you, sorry—"

"Are you busy?"

The question surprised me. My hand stilled. "Uh—right now? My parents are home; we were actually... just about to have dinner—"

"Would it be okay with them if I took you out?" His offer rendered me speechless. My mouth was open in attempt to speak, but my brain presented no words to articulate. I gaped.

"Like, a date?"

"Hell, no."

I remained silent for a short while, attempting to say something, anything at all, until finally I gave up. I needed him to go, but I needed him to stay. The urges of the latter swelled more, and hesitantly, I opened the door wider and motioned for him to come in.

"I'll ask, I guess." I said quietly as he stepped into the small foyer. Unimpressed, his eyes roamed around from floor to ceiling. His reaction surprised me a little; people, at their first time coming over, were always in awe of the house's immense interior. Sasuke, though, acted as though he'd seen the place a hundred times before. Brushing off his indifference, I walked down the short hallway, with him at my tail.

"Mom? Daddy?" I called as I pushed open the glass doors that lead to the kitchen. My parents, still in the same position as they were when I came home from school, with my mom shuffling about in an apron and my father working on the island's counter, looked up and smiled at me. Soon though, their nice-and-easy gaze turned into that of surprise and confusion. I'm guessing Sasuke had already stepped into the room. "Uh," I began awkwardly, "Can I go out with a friend tonight?"

My father's eyebrows shot up at my forthrightness, as Mom's eyes narrowed slightly. Oh, great. I started out so wrong. Quickly, I thought on my feet for the right subsequent thing to say. "Mom, Dad, this is—"

"Sasuke." A smooth, deferential voice interrupted from behind me, "Uchiha Sasuke. It's nice to meet you, mister and missus Haruno." In the corner of my eye, I saw him nod in acknowledgement.

I raised an eyebrow, a facial form of _What the hell. _It sounded... so bizarre coming from Sasuke. His manners did no effect on my parents however; or, maybe a little on my Dad. Mom, strict as ever, had her eyes narrowed in suspicion; while my Dad, carefree as ever, simply gave Sasuke a once-over. Or twice...thrice.

"Uchiha, eh?" He repeated; his eyes now distant in contemplation. "I've heard that name before."

I stiffened. My father, back when he was still in the force, worked with Kakashi, who in turn had been Sasuke's then (and present) supervisor; all the while my mother, who specialized in criminal law, must have had undoubtedly came across Sasuke's case more than once. _Of course_ they would remember that he was the kid I ratted on years back, the kid that had been the cause of my short-term trauma. In no way would they let me go now.

"It's a common last name." I reasoned quickly.

"Actually, it's not." Sasuke whispered in my ear. "_Uchiha_ happens to be a rare, highly-regarded family name."

"Shut up." I hissed back.

"Ah! Uchiha!" Dad exclaimed to himself all-too-humiliatingly, "It was in Abumi's file. I'm guessing you're the punk who turned the kid into a vegetable?"

Dad's gusto and nonchalance—that was expected I supposed, although my mother wasn't all that animated at the newly resurfaced fact. "Zaku Abumi? A friend of mine took his case, years ago. I read his file." She was frowning now, in contrast to the "my-oh-my" expression Dad lightly wore on his face. "Sakura, can I speak to you for a moment?"

And here goes the lecture. Left without a choice, I followed my mother into the living room and braced myself for a ton worth of admonitions on Sasuke. I could only hope Dad wouldn't launch into another one of his all-in-fun supposedly humorous stories about my childhood days unknown to me as I explained.

"_Uchiha Sasuke_, Sakura?" My mother whispered sharply, shock and disapproval out-and-out in her two widened eyes. "You are going out with a _delinquent_?" If the said delinquent (a more cordial term for what Dad had called him, "punk") hadn't been standing on the other side of a fairly thin wall of wood, I assumed my mother would have been screaming.

"No, no, _no._" I replied, just as taken back at her allegation. "We're not... together, _not at all. _We're friends, or, we're not even friends, really..."

"Don't tell me you've been spending time with this boy! Sakura, you of all people should know what had happened with him years back."

"Yes, but Mom, he... changed. Anyway, I need to just go. Please."

"Absolutely not!" I groaned at her response. "This boy has been in a lot of trouble, Sakura. I'm not sure he's someone you should be associating with."

"No, he's...Sasuke, he won't do anything. I mean, he's not a complete angel but... he's not the same anymore."

"I don't know..."

"We're just going to grab a bite to eat, and come back real fast, okay? Please?"

She frowned sceptically, and hesitated before replying, "We'll see what your father has to say—but I'm _not _happy about this. That boy is trouble." Typically, she would think so. She knew the dos and don'ts when it came to rules and laws, and knew perfectly well the ones Sasuke had already broken. When it came to faults, my mother took things in an uncomfortably straightforward perspective that almost made it impossible to come up with a good excuse. Uchiha Sasuke was not a matter she would easily let off, that was for sure.

Coming back into the kitchen, I found Dad at the heart of the tale of How I Accidentally Killed a Hamster, something he usually recounted just after the story, Sakura Got Lost in an Airport and Wound up in Another Continent. At the sight of Sasuke's amused expression, I instantly flushed. I'd expected my father to interrogate Sasuke just as any other Dad in the world would do if their daughter had let in an unfamiliar boy; I'd expected them to talk about Sasuke, not _me_.

"Daddy," I interrupted before the old man walked further down the humiliating memory lane of my childhood. "Can I go out to eat with Sasuke?"

The light in my father's eyes faded away at the mention of Sasuke's name and the words "go out" in the same sentence. "It's a school night."

"I'm not going clubbing, Dad." I remarked. "It's not like I'll stay out till four."

"Well..." he pondered for a moment, stretching out the one-syllabic word as his eyes flickered to Mom for a second notion. She gave him a wary look, clearly expressing her disapproval in a single glance. Equally, I looked at my Dad with big, hopeful eyes the same way I did when I was younger, using the same technique that usually got me what I wanted. The look did not fail me. Scanning Sasuke's tall figure as he stood graciously by the doorway, waiting with patience for an answer, my father reluctantly concluded, "...he seems like a nice boy."

My eyes brightened as my mother's protruded in shock. "_Thank you."_

"Be back by midnight." Dad chirped.

"Eleven." My mother corrected.

"Ten." Dad challenged.

"_Nine_."

"Mom, Dad." I interjected, embarrassed and humiliated. Jesus, it wasn't like this was a date.

Behind me, Sasuke let out a low, inaudible chuckle. "I'll have her back by nine." He said respectfully, his hand landing secretly on the small of my back. With a curt nod, he led me out the kitchen before any of my parents had a chance to reconsider.

I closed all the curtains in the living room and made sure the windows were shut before we headed out. Quickly grabbing a jacket, I followed Sasuke out the house and locked the front door behind me. Precautions, I had to take them. I knew the Rogue had left several minutes ago, nearly half an hour, with the sick intention of hunting down his new prey. Nevertheless, I had to be on my guard at all times. After tonight, with the Rogue on the loose, newly fed with blood and murder, there was no telling of what he'd do next. He would come back for more, that was for sure; and when he did I had to certify that my friends and family were out of danger's way.

This was my problem alone.

* * *

The farther away I walked from the warmth of my home, the feeling of light-hearted humiliation and casualness escaped from my body, and a familiar chill returned. Involuntarily, I shuddered. The action drew attention, and right away I felt a deep, intense gaze piercing through my back. Uncertainly, I turned my head.

I wasn't the only one whose mood had changed since our departure from the house. Sasuke's eyes, previously light and amused, had turned grave and unnervingly observant, staring at me without a single word. I fidgeted. "What?"

"Is something wrong?"

I flinched at his direct question. I hated it; I hated the mere question and its simplicity. It was either yes or no, yet it was something I couldn't answer honestly, not without putting another life at risk. Sasuke's straightforwardness, though, made it almost impossible to lie.

"Uh—no."

I was restless under his watchful, unwavering gaze. There was no doubt he could see right through my dishonesty; I couldn't quite imagine anyone who wouldn't. Finally, after the longest three seconds I'd ever experienced, his gaze shifted away. Relieved, I exhaled the breath I'd been holding. Unfortunately though, he wasn't finished with me.

"What you're running from," I jumped as he suddenly spoke up, "is it the same thing that you were trying to avoid that day I took you to the beach?"

A long, silent pause passed between us as I struggled to formulate a believable answer; but in the end all came up with was a useless, obviously false reply, "I'm not running from anything." His head fell to the side languidly with a raised eyebrow, a look that wordlessly told me I was horrible at lying. Stubbornly, I insisted, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do."

"I think I don't." I snapped.

He shook his head in disbelief, disappointment clear on his expression. For a while we walked at a distance, away from each other physically and emotionally. I thought of giving him the silent treatment, but when he was doing the exact same thing to me, the technique didn't quite work both ways, and as a result we ended up with a big, fat silence.

Then, quietly, he whispered with a gentler tone, "Are you ever going to tell me?"

I bit my lip, searching my mind for the right word to say. What _was _there to say? The truth was no option, yet lying didn't seem to be of any help either. After much mental endeavour, I finally decided on an indirect answer. With a voice just as hushed, I replied, "I can't."

He glared at the pavement before his feet, never once lifting his eyes to meet mine. "...I'll figure it out myself then."

I snapped my head towards him, "Don't—"

"You can't stop me."

Facing him, I saw the decision in his eyes. There was no use battling Sasuke's persistence. I didn't want him involved, I didn't want anyone involved, yet despite that, his stubborn nature made me realize something.

Sasuke wasn't forgetting this subject anytime soon; he saw through all my deception and he knew I had something to hide. He wasn't going to give up that easily, I saw that now. Why, I didn't know, but at the moment I suppose that didn't matter.

Gradually, I found myself smiling.

Maybe, just maybe... I wasn't entirely on my own, after all.

* * *

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Can you at least tell me?"

"No."

"Just give a hint."

"Fine."

"Really?"

"No."

Scowling, I turned away. In my peripheral vision, Sasuke smirked, triumphant, before recomposing his face back to apathy. Jerk.

We continued strolling down the road, every once in a while turning around a corner to a street I was familiar of. Once out of the residential areas, we had thankfully remained on the main roads, ones with both traffic and people happening about industriously. I wasn't entirely sure where we were going, but Sasuke was leading me farther and farther away by the minute.

For a second time, I was following him without any knowledge about our destination whatsoever. There were only two differences. One, he was here, physically; and two, we were going the opposite direction. The last time, Sasuke had led me to a more secluded part of town; this time however, the crowd seemed to be getting thicker by the block, and the chain of cars longer. The number of lights that dotted all around the vicinity redoubled; signs and advertisements of flashing neon illuminated the evening. Before long, I found myself standing at the heart of downtown Konoha, surrounded by the hectic world of trade and commerce.

"Sasuke?" I spoke over the noise level; or, at least tried to. "Where are we going?"

"Dinner." He said simply, the answer imprecise to my question. Then, with a bite to his tone, he added, "Why? Nervous?"

A little. "No." I denied, "Why here, though?"

"I have a place in mind."

I waited for an explanation; but as always Sasuke did not explicate further. Forever a man of a few words, he always seemed to find a way to say as little amount of speech as possible. Getting Sasuke to explain something required a countless bunch of follow-up questions—most of which he chose not to answer anyway.

"...Where, exactly?" I asked after a while.

"A restaurant."

I rolled my eyes. No duh. I needed more information than that. "Which restaurant?"

"Just wait." Why did I even bother to press for more details? Clearly, he was keeping me in the dark, and liking the fact that I was so completely clueless. For the second time, I thought: jerk.

Grudgingly, I followed behind Sasuke without another word, expecting him to eventually stop and say we were here. He didn't, and after several minutes, we were still walking. He made his way through the thick mob of pedestrians, walking past every restaurant in the wide boulevard. There were possibly a dozen diners compacted along each road, but Sasuke stopped at none of them.

Without a warning, he turned sharply to his right, towards an out-of-the-way street; a mere, unused lane connected to the tons of main, busy roads that interweaved around downtown. We walked halfway down the street before Sasuke veered once again, this time, to an alleyway. I halted fully.

Realizing I hadn't followed, he stopped and turned, seeing the hesitance evident on my face. "Scared?" His voice was taunting.

I quickly scanned the darker surroundings that waited before us. A sole light lamp stood meters into the passage, its faint luminosity only creating more shadows than light in the already shady place. High walls of the neighbouring buildings stood on either side, rusting metal and chaotic graffiti covering every inch of the vertical planes. Amid the shadows were indistinct outlines that moved every once in a while. God, what _was _that? And yes, Sasuke, if you couldn't already tell, I _was_ scared.

"Maybe we...shouldn't."

As a response to my fairly reasonable precaution, he simply rolled his eyes. "It's fine." He dismissed nonchalantly, tugging at my arm in attempt to make me move, "You're safe." His words were touching, really, and it would have been romantic if it came from any other person but Sasuke. I wondered, though, if he meant it at all, if I could really trust him enough to know I was safe.

But it wasn't as though had any other choice. Either go with him; or stay and be left on my own. Unwillingly, I stepped into the alley and was instantly swallowed whole by darkness. The flickering, useless lamp post and the moon's glow were the only source of light in the passage; and though it was dark, there was enough light for me to perceive movements and alien shapes that, initially, I did not recognize. Eventually though, as my eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, I began to make out the shadows and realized what they were. A dark contour was hunched up against a tarnished back door, while two or three more oddly formed mounds scattered throughout the muddy floors. People. Homeless people, dirty and ill with who knew what, perhaps even a little loony. By the large dumpster just meters away, tall and big silhouettes hung about dangerously. Hoodlums, I assumed, who lingered smoking and blazing for lack of a better hobby. Slightly nervous, I closed in behind Sasuke.

"Stay close." He whispered, as he shifted directly in front of me, concealing me whole. However the deed only drew more attention rather than keep me away from it. The men turned their heads at our approach, a smile forming upon their lips. My heart raced.

"Sasuke..."

"Don't talk." I shut my mouth and lowered my head. I feared of what would happen next, of what this mob could possibly do, and for a moment I almost regretted ever going with Sasuke. Why had he brought me here in the first place?

Then, unexpectedly, Sasuke nodded; a casual, indifferent bob of his head—and my thoughts immediately stopped. There was something in the nonchalant gesture that told me something was off; their acknowledgements to one another were not doings of strangers who had randomly walked past each other. Sasuke had seen them before.

With less difficulty than I expected, we passed by the men unscathed. Their eyes were still set on me, I felt it. Sasuke glared, and they merely grinned, proud at the reaction they received, but never advanced; I was grateful for that. Finally, Sasuke and I turned around a corner. I found myself exhaling with relief, only to have air caught in my throat once more. The following path hadn't been any better. Save for the absence of daunting, dangerous men, the corner we turned to only led to a similar scene: a corroded, homeless-people spotted alley.

"What was that about?" I muttered. Sasuke shrugged—no comment.

We continued along the labyrinth of alleyways for several, uncountable minutes. This must be where the back alleys of the entire downtown area all linked, intertwined altogether into one big maze. I would have been disoriented within seconds if left alone in this complicated mesh—and this was evidently not an ideal place to be lost in.

On the other hand, Sasuke seemed to be doing just fine. Perfectly fine, actually. He turned and rounded around corners without a hesitation, and knew to an absolute extent where he was going—and though I was thankful that at least one of us had the sense of direction, I couldn't help but wonder how Sasuke knew his bearings so well. He maneuvered around the place as though he was merely walking around his house, as though he'd lived here.

From his familiarity with back alleys, to his obvious acquaintance with big, undoubtedly dangerous men, it was clear that Sasuke had been here before—much more than just once. Then, it occurred to me: Sasuke _had _lived here, more or less. He grew up in exactly this kind of environment, terrifying and hazardous.

Spending the past couple of days with Sasuke had me thinking he wasn't entirely mutinous anymore, that he changed—and maybe he did; but clearly, no matter how much his personality and actions from then to now altered for the better, his past didn't changed, and somehow his old behaviour still stuck to him like second nature.

The process of getting to know Sasuke was reversely different than becoming acquainted with a normal somebody. The more I spent time with him, the less I knew of him. When I thought he was entirely horrible, he showed me a side of him I'd never seen before. And when I was finally beginning to think he was good, he proved me wrong. As though serving as a reminder, he brought me to the world that he once lived in, of alleys and dark passages where most illicit activities happened, reminding me of the reality that surrounded Sasuke. He gave me mixed signs and behaviour that I did not know anymore just what he was.

You could know people for so long, but never really know them at all.

Despite his offhand lack of care earlier on just before we entered the alleys, he kept me safely behind him the entire time, until we finally saw the end of the passage. Sasuke and I broke out of the darkness after nearly half an hour of walking, and I relaxed with relief at the sight of people once again. We continued strolling, this time, side by side.

The street we were in was not a place I was familiar of. There was the same amount of people bustling about, but more litter, and less on the fancy category. It was a side of the city life I'd never been in. It wasn't as dynamic, wasn't as refined, but as I scanned my foreign surroundings I found something I'd never seen in the heart of the expensive city. Down the block, a child jumped up and down for ice cream, her father smiling; a regular group of pre-teens, clad in simple jeans and jackets, talking and laughing; an old man was helped across the street by a young lady; a family sauntered down the street together. There were no snobby teenagers, nor bratty kids, nor unfriendly seniors and ambitious businessmen, all reaching towards an unreachable state of perfection. It was different here. It was real.

Sasuke tended to do this—he brought me to places I wasn't accustomed to, he showed me a different environment, a whole new ecosystem that differed vastly from what I'd grown used to. He showed me his world, the good side of it; and, truthfully, it made me glad.

I glanced at Sasuke, fighting the small smile that began to form upon my lips. Sensing my gaze, he tilted his head to the side childishly and gave me a lazy-boy look, raising an eyebrow as his eyes danced in question and amusement. I almost laughed at the sight.

Then, without any warning, Sasuke's obsidian pools hardened to stone.

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

"Sasuke...?"

His eyes left Sakura's to scan the crowd over her head, but by the time he did, the seemingly-insignificant anomaly he'd previously caught sight of was gone.

_Damn it, where _is_ he?_

It was no coincidence. He'd spotted the figure too many times the past half hour; by Sakura's house, across the street, just outside the upper estates, entering downtown, in the alley—he'd seen a shadow. There was no telling that it was the same one, but he had a hunch that it was, and that many sightings couldn't possibly be a simple happenstance.

"What's wrong?"

Sasuke slowed to a stop, the girl following shortly after. She looked up at him with quizzical eyes, worry and confusion merged in sea-green pools. He cursed himself for ever bringing her here; it was the wrong place, at the wrong time. First, Haku and them. He hadn't expected to come across anyone in the back alleys, especially not anyone he knew from the past. It was lucky they hadn't tried anything, because if they did, he doubted his previous (now-broken) ties with the group would save him and Sakura.

And now, this—though he wasn't entirely sure what they were dealing with here. He could almost see him, almost, but their tail was expertly hidden. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Sasuke?"

"Look at the corner just by the pharmacy store, in the side alley, across the street—No, don't point. Try not to stare." He watched as she turned and looked around offhandedly, her gaze sweeping past the spot he'd indicated. "What do you see?"

"It's a..." she hesitated, glancing for a second time, "A...shadow, of a person, I think. Is it?"

He nodded, "Seems so."

A frown settled upon her face, "What about it?"

"I saw the same silhouette earlier," he told her, "More than once."

The look she wore was now disturbed, afraid. "What are you saying, Sasuke?"

He gazed into her eyes, sending a silent warning; and then, with a grave, cautious voice, he uttered,

"We're being followed."

* * *

_Author's Note: Typo? Grammar errors? Just include a lil note in your review. This chap wasn't as thoroughly proof-read (only twice) as I wasn't planning to update. But due to number of feedbacks I got last week, I figured it's my responsibility & gratitude to give you this fast update. =) As a thank-you gift!! Seeee? Good things happen when you review! lol_

_Read, Review & Thank You!  
Keelah_

_(Ohohoho... it's Friday! && it's cold and sunny! && the week's over!!  
...and the crapload of homework I have is just freakin' FAN-TAS-TIC. T.T" )_


	30. Beautiful Pictures

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_In any other place on the planet, this would have been considered a date. A boy shows up at your house and takes you out to dinner._

_Date._

_But this wasn't anything like that..._

_Sasuke wasn't even looking at me._

* * *

_**Chapter TWENTY NINE  
**__**Beautiful Pictures**_

"_What?" _I asked, even as his previous statement intolerably resonated within my head, miraculously drowning out the metropolitan sounds of chattering, engines and sirens. For a moment I was unable to form any kind of logical sentence; the dread that progressively increased inside me caused all my senses to turn into one unsystematic dysfunction. Sasuke's mouth opened and closed, uttering words that I couldn't seem to understand. All my thoughts were wrapped around his earlier announcement.

Someone was following us.

"_Move." _He finally said firmly, nudging me forward. "Keep walking."

I strutted like an android, my limbs feeling as though they'd give in any second now. "Who is it?" I whispered, though at the same fearing the answer.

"Don't know." He replied abruptly, his voice in monotone. "He was too far."

"_He_?"

"It was a man. I could tell."

I shuddered. Could it be the Rogue? Perhaps; but at the same time his being here was highly...improbable. He was with Karin tonight, was he not? As much as I hated to declare it even if only in my head, he was too busy ending a life at the moment to be following me, at least supposedly. He couldn't possibly be in two places at once. Though he may seem all-seeing and all-knowing most of the time, this man (whoever he was) was also just human (with a psychotic mentality and a sadistic thirst for bloodshed) and surely he was no miracle-worker. Whoever Sasuke saw, it couldn't have been the Rogue.

My heartbeat thudded in my ears as another question occured to me.

Then who _was_?

"Are you sure?" I questioned, adrenaline beginning to rush in my veins. "I mean, it could just be a stranger. Maybe he's going in the same direction. Maybe—"

His head shook in a sharp manner, cutting me off. "I saw the same figure, back in your place. He's been following us."

Fear struck me like a bolt of electricity. "And you kept this from me?"

He hesitated. "I didn't want to frighten you."

"Well, that plan's certainly working."

Sasuke's face scrunched, irritated, at my sarcastic remark. "Sakura, shut up."

I bit my lip at his tight demand and turned away. "Take me home."

"No." The resoluteness that weighed heavily in his voice surprised me. I looked up to find the Uchiha growling in aggravation. "Look," he spat, though something told me his irritation wasn't for me. "I'm sorry this is happening. You're freaked out, I get it. I am, too. Just let me think, okay? Be quiet for a minute."

A minute. Sure. I could do that.

...

Not even halfway through the sixty seconds of silence that he'd requested for, I couldn't help but blurt out, "Sasuke?" No response. "Sasuke?"

He sighed exasperatedly, frustration slicing into his formerly concentrated facade. "What?" he answered nonetheless.

"Is he still behind us?"

Sasuke whipped his head around, scanning our surroundings in a casual manner before settling his gaze back on the ground. With a single word, he responded, "Yes."

"What do we do?" I asked, distressed. There was a moment of quietness from his end of the conversation for a few seconds, before finally, he announced:

"...Lose him." Without warning, his formerly casual pace broke in a speedy walk. Confused and frightened, I followed quickly after him. There were many sounds of footfalls, in view of the fact that it was a busy avenue, but one particular thudding of hurried steps stood out among the rest. He was chasing after us.

Soon enough, Sasuke and I were running. He led me through the thickest crowds in hopes to blend in, but darting amidst shoppers who ambled about in an ever so cavalier fashion, the camouflage failed to serve its purpose. We stood out like an evergreen during fall.

I was not exactly the fittest girl in the world. Not necessarily fat, but my name with the words "strong" and "athletic" definitely did not go well in the same sentence. Before long, I was panting like an asthmatic, my legs prickling with a cold, tired sensation of numbness. I wanted more than anything to fall down and rest, but hurried footsteps of the man pursuing behind us kept me going.

The panic that ran in my veins helped not a bit. It was like running in water. I wanted to go faster, but as though my mind was fixed in reverse setting, I slowed down the more I willed my legs to speed up. All these factors, plus the human multitude of friction, resulted to my deceleration, and soon the gap between Sasuke and I drew greater.

"Sasuke!" My heart pounded so hard I felt the pulse on the base of my throat. I ran hard, but it wasn't enough to catch up to Sasuke's impossible speed. I was in an unknown place, with an unknown man after us. If I were separated from the Uchiha, I wouldn't know what to do. A few yards ahead, I saw him turn a sharp corner to the right; and just like that, Sasuke was out of my vision. Panic clogged in my lungs, and I couldn't breathe. "_Sasuke!_"

As I veered around the corner he'd disappeared into, hands instantly clasped on both my arms as I was pulled into the shadows. _"Over here."_ All at once, I was pinned against a grimy, brick wall. A hand planted itself solidly beside my head, while the other by my waist, locking me from any kind of escape. I looked up into the bottomless pools of black that belonged to none other than Sasuke. The familiar sight of him nearly had me collapsing from an overwhelming relief, however before I could do any sort of breakdown, he leaned forward, and his face hovering closely on top of mine — startlingly close, his lips nearly touching my own.

He didn't stop there.

As though his current, unfathomable actions hadn't already rushed a dozen litres of blood to my face, flushing me to a point that I camouflaged rightly against the colour of brick, his entire body drew even nearer, his shadow swallowing me out of sight. His strong, lean figure covered wholly over me, the closeness virtually suffocating—yet I found myself perfectly calm. Ruffled, yes, and utterly caught off guard, but beneath the shock and bewilderment, our proximity was comforting.

"Sasuke," I breathed, causing his bangs to waver slightly. "What the hell are you—?"

"Shut up." He hissed, but made no further move to close in the small gap between us. It was then that I realized what he was doing. In the eyes of any other passerby, we were just another pair of teenagers frenching shamelessly in public. None of them would ever suspect that beneath the shadows that secretively draped over us, nothing, absolutely nothing, was going on.

Then, in the corner of my eye, a tall, broad-shouldered stature quickly swept past behind Sasuke, along with a flash of blonde caught in the glint of light. Uchiha's head shot up, turning away to look over his shoulder. His gaze rested on the retreating back of our stalker, and suddenly, without any explanation whatsoever, his eyes ignited with an emotion too fleeting to decipher. In the twinkling of an eye, the reaction waned (just as quickly as it had alighted out of the blue) and the Uchiha recomposed his face into the usual indefinable frontage he tended to overuse. However, the cover-up didn't fool me. I'd seen his reaction upon seeing the man crystal-clear.

"What's the matter?" I asked, my eyes searching his stone-hard expression for any other give away. "Who was it? Sasuke. Answer me." I received no response.

I hit him hard in the chest, the action too weak to inflict any kind of pain, but enough to draw his attention. Once his eyes settled upon mine, I questioned again, "Do you know him?"

Having parents who dealt with two-faced people for a living had its ups and downs. Years of late nights and long recounts of crime scenes and trials, which my parents spoke about whenever they came home from work, taught me how to manoeuvre my way to the truth in a maze of false claims.

Despite the chilly air of the early evening, a thin cord of sweat formed along Sasuke's neck. His entire body was rigid, his knuckles white from the tightly balled fists. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, his face gravitated in dismay; shifting his gaze away from mine, staring at something of no importance, he replied:

"No." There was no hesitation in his voice.

And yet, regardless of that, I knew right away:

He was lying.

* * *

"It's not much... but they've got the best food. And the nicest people. You'll love it here."

I looked at him, looked at the crooked line of his lips that was barely turned up on one side in encouragement, and then at the small restaurant that stood proudly behind him, flashing faint with a blue neon sign. Sasuke nodded towards the entrance, a small screen door opened welcomingly for anyone who would even give a second glance at the seemingly forgotten eatery. A little sceptical on my part, but the rarity of Sasuke's genuine optimism was difficult to object to. Coyly, I followed him inside.

The place was small, no larger than our own backyard, with five tables packed together in the single space. Mere wooden swing-doors separated the dining area from the tiny kitchen that was further inside, where two people bustled about preparing meals that gave off a mouth-watering aroma. There weren't many people inside; a small family of three and an old man who appeared to be fast asleep on his seat by the door.

Familiarly, Sasuke gave a respectful bob of his head towards a staff behind the counter—a scruffy, genial old man who markedly reminded me of my grandparents. He smiled with a sense of acquaintance at the sight of Sasuke, before zeroing in an examining gaze on me. Then, enthusiastically, he broke out with a grin and ran towards the kitchen. Odd.

As though he owned the place, Sasuke strode in the direction of a table distinctively pushed off at the farthest corner of the restaurant, away from all the others, located fittingly by a window. I sat down, unaccustomed to the new setting. It was certainly different from the usual overly-bedecked restaurants my parents brought me to on occasion. No tux-wearing servers told us to wait in the lobby, or took our coats as we came in. The walls weren't touched up with deep coloured curtains, nor were the ceiling starred with grand chandeliers.

There were no classics being played live on a jewelled stage, rather the place hummed with a peaceful kind of silence and a home-like, hassle-free essence. Overly dressed-up dolls of people walking around uncomfortably in tight gowns and tuxedos were nowhere to be found. Sasuke wore a pair of slacks and a characteristic baggy jacket on top of a black tee. Me? I had on the oldest, comfiest pair of jeans I owned, and a shirt that couldn't be simpler. Here, we weren't required to a formal dress code; laxity was acceptable, and I needed that. Slowly, the tenseness of my nerves from our earlier pursuit slackened and unknotted, and I found myself relaxing in my seat.

Sasuke took off his jacket and slung it around the back of his seat. "It's nice here." I remarked, earning a wordless "Hn" response from the boy opposite of me. He glanced at me, his eyes slightly twinkling under the pale fluorescence, as if chiding, _I told you so._

"Sasuke!" startled at the sudden exclaim, I turned my head and found a stout old woman in her sixties making her way excitedly to the said boy's spot. "Oh, you've grown!" she gushed the way elders usually did, "Why haven't you visited lately? You never stopped by anymore—oh." she turned to me, a parental interest scanning my whole figure. Meekly, I could only smile in return, earning an even greater smile from the woman. "Teyaki _said_ you brought a girl with you. My, she's an angel! Have you kissed her yet?"

"Uruchi-san, jeez." Sasuke interjected, ducking his head in what could only be defined as embarrassment. "No, I haven't—"

"Will you do it tonight?"

"_No._" He barked, reddening in anger, fury (embarrassment?), to a shade that battled my own hair color. I relished the sight.

"Then when!"

"_Never_." He blurted, looking at anything but me. He turned to the woman named Uruchi. "We're not—"

"She must be quite daring if she's able to tolerate your arrogance like this." Uruchi commented, grinning at me. I grinned back, happy to have her as an accomplice in Sasuke's torture. "Well, it's about time. You've been flying solo for so long I was beginning to think you'll die single."

"The food, please, Uruchi-san." Sasuke cut off, disliking the topic of our humour.

Fighting a smile that urged to materialize on my lips, I settled my gaze upon the table, where two pieces of light gray paper were laid out pleasantly before us. I stared, lost, at the lengthy menu, surprised at the large range of food choices they served in the small bistro. "Um."

"The usual." Sasuke spoke without glancing at the list of food, and as if sensing my disorientation with the unfamiliar menu, (as though "Um" hadn't already been any indication) he jerked his head at me, "Same for her."

Uruchi smiled, her eyes swinging back and forth between Sasuke and I. Suddenly, she giggled in a child-like manner; winking at Sasuke, she finally turned to leave.

"_Christ,_" Sasuke muttered under his breath. I could no longer help it; a laugh involuntarily escaped my lips, resulting my being at the receiving end of Sasuke's pointed glare. "What?"

"_Flying solo_? I'm a little curious," I taunted, grinning. "Have you ever been with a girl? ...Or guy, whatever you prefer."

"I'm not gay, if that's what you're referring to."

"Are you sure?"

He twitched. "I think I know my sexual preference, yes."

"You just said _I think._" I pointed out, "Which means you're _not _sure, which explains why you've never dated."

"I _am _sure." He snapped, "And of course I have."

"Oh," Well, that just certainly drew the fun out of everything. "Oh..."

Upon sensing my enthusiasm's deflation, Sasuke smirked—an evil curl at the edge of his lips that never quite made it all the way across his mouth; and the tables were turned. "What?" he jeered at me, "You jealous?"

"Impossible."

"I bet you are."

I scowled.

"Ah, I remember the old days, flirting around with the girls." My attention was instantly torn from Sasuke and redirected towards the old man currently serving us our food—which looked wholly appetizing, for the record, something I hadn't expected from a minor eatery.

The man sent a teasing grin at Sasuke's direction, one that the boy tried to ignore. The man looked at me, nodding in approval as he said, "Sure looks nicer than the last one," Turning to take his leave, he added, "Keep this one, will you, boy?"

Once the man disappeared into the kitchen, I pronounced, flushing, "They're really... friendly."

"They're alright." Sasuke said, shrugging as he took a bite. Boys had huge appetites. Naruto ate twice as much as I did, and Chouji: thrice. Sasuke was no exception. He ate just as hungrily; the only thing that differentiated him from the other animalistic males was his etiquette. Despite looking like he hadn't eaten in days, Sasuke still managed to eat with a fluid grace—nothing like dining with Naruto. Oddly though, these boys remained in shape. In the back of my mind, I wondered how they did it: boys ate as if they've been deprived of food, and yet still managed to stay fit. Must be nice, to eat and not get fat—something that girls worried over more than half the time.

"Are you related?" I questioned, digging into my own dish.

"Family friends," He replied between munches, "Sort of like an aunt and uncle. They own the place."

"That's cool."

He nodded. I shifted. "So, uh... the food's great."

"Sakura?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not a date." He informed me, his intonation flat and his face deadpan, yet the undertone in his voice was mocking, derisive. "We don't have to talk."

Blood filled up my face. "I know that." I snapped. Of course I knew that.

In any other place on the planet, this would have been considered a date. A boy shows up at your house and takes you out to dinner:

Date.

But this wasn't anything like that, and it wasn't just because he had only this minute directly said so.

Sasuke wasn't even looking at me.

It was only a few minutes into our food that I noticed his gaze glued onto the windowpane, distracted by something outside that had notably caught his attention—whatever it was, it rendered a hard frown to settle on Sasuke's once light-hearted facade.

"Stay here." He ordered, suddenly rising on his feet.

"What?" I demanded, perplexed by his odd actions.

"I'll be right back."

"Where are you—?" But he was gone. Before I could even finish my sentence, Sasuke was out the door and across the street.

The sky had officially darkened for the evening, no longer sporting a midnight blue. The night was black and the streets outside only faintly lit up by the orange glows of streetlamps and clothing stores. Where Sasuke was heading, shadows loomed all around.

I squinted through the somewhat unclear sheet of glass, trying to make out Sasuke's figure. He headed directly towards a lamppost, adjacent to a shoe store's back lane, and threw his arms up in a frustrated manner. He was fuming.

Baffled: that was how I felt at the sight of Sasuke talking, yelling, at absolutely nothing. Had he officially lost his _mind_? What in the world was he doing? However, before I was completely convinced that the Uchiha had gone on an unexpected brink of insanity, movement from under the streetlight caught my eye. Just beyond the lamp's glare, enveloped in the utter darkness that was past light's reach, a figure shifted.

There was a man.

I frowned and watched as Sasuke paced up and down the sidewalk, shaking his head, the lividity evident in his actions. He stood directly in the light, thus everything he did was visible to me—his obvious confrontation, annoyance... even fear. It was his adversary that I couldn't quite make out, hidden with expertise from my sight.

All of a sudden, Sasuke's head turned, facing me with a frown lucid on his features.

My heart skipped a beat as I ducked under cover, immediately averting from the window. I shifted away from the glass and settled my probing eyes upon the table and my half-eaten dinner. I dared not to look back out the windowpane.

I could never understand Sasuke. What was going on? Who was he talking to? It couldn't possibly be the same man that had been following us—but then again, whoever had even claimed that the stranger had been following _us_? What if he had only been tracking Sas—?

It was then that something polished caught a glint of light from the restaurant's fluorescence, and all at once I found my attention drawn to the jacket hanging around the chair before me. Sasuke's.

A big bulk protruded observably from its pocket, and the sight of it sparked up something inside of me. Curiosity. In what I hoped was a sneaky act, I rose from my seat, reached across the table, and in one fluid motion took whatever was inside the jacket's pocket, where the unknown object stuck out.

I was back down on my stool in the next second, staring at the black, rectangular item I now had in my hand. A camera—the same one I'd seen in his room the day before. I mulled over the object, contemplating whether to give in to my inquiring impulses, or to simply turn away from my intrusiveness. In an instant, I decided on the former. With a quick scan around the area, I turned on the camera and skimmed through Sasuke's pictures.

There were lots of them, much more than a hundred, consisting of images that dated all the way back two or three years ago. Motion. Colours. Blurred images. Silhouettes. Landscapes. And then, near the end of the virtual gallery, I sighted several thumbnails of what appeared to be the guys—the ones in the program, those he presently resided with—Neji, Shikamaru, Suigetsu, Jugo, Kankuro, Shino, Kiba, Karin... It was only now that I realized they'd all been together for quite a long time now; the bonds they had rooted deeper with time more than just mere alliance.

The shots were all stolen, none of them ever really looking, save for Kiba's occasional hogging of the camera and Suigetsu's directed middle finger at the lens. I'd kind of expected that—they weren't the type to voluntarily pose for a picture like Ino so prominently was. The photographs were mostly dynamic. There were pictures of them running around the park, the dogs, in the field, sports—with every click of the arrow that turned to the next photo, I found myself smiling. The facades of tension and hate and rigidness were unworn on their faces, and each of their countenance was more bare and relaxed as I'd ever seen them, a new side of which I'd never been aware.

Then, as I clicked the right arrow, the forming smile on my mouth disintegrated.

I froze.

The image displayed on the screen was unmistakably clear, yet I seemed to be having difficulties digesting it in. I clicked next to pass the photograph, to rid it from my mind and act as though I'd never set sights on it, but a similar photo only replaced the last.

It was an uncommon picture that featured a smiling Sasuke—or an upturned coil at the edge of his mouth that closely resembled to one, at least. They were at a park—and I meant "_they" _because Sasuke was not alone. Beside him, smiling brightly and prettily, was Karin, enveloped in the warm embrace of Sasuke's other arm, which hung lazily around her shoulders. It was self-taken, not by Sasuke but rather Karin, her arm visibly stretched out as she held the camera in place. In another photo, Sasuke smirked crookedly at the camera, while Karin pursed her lips against his cheek. I clicked next and found the two of them lying on what seemed to be a mattress; Karin smiled slyly as her head rested on his chest, and Sasuke... he was looking at her with a familiar intensity that he sent my way during those first days of our meeting. The only difference was, he was mad at me then, and he'd glared so often with rage and irritation. In the picture, his eyes held another emotion, something else...something softer...

Looking away, I clicked next.

The following picture numbed my fingers, and no matter how bad I wanted to move on, or drop the stupid device, I couldn't. I stared, helplessly, at the camera's display. The same setting, both of them on a bed (his room, I recognized) yet neither were looking at the camera. His arm, pinned underneath her neck, while her hand, settled on one side of his face as another held the camera to capture the moment; eyes closed, lips locked.

I think I stopped breathing.

"Why do have that?" A voice erupted from behind me as the camera was abruptly seized from my hands. At the last instant, my thumb grazed _Return_ before I turned, startled, to meet the amused, inquisitive gaze of Uchiha Sasuke.

His playfulness quickly diminished though as he saw my face. His forehead scrunched in a frown. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I manage to squeak out. Honestly, though, I didn't know how I felt. I wasn't... upset, at least I didn't think so, but I sure as hell wasn't ecstatic.

Rolling his eyes, as though he'd heard the stupidity of my own thoughts, Sasuke raised the camera and aimed at me. I stiffened. "What are you—?"

_Click!_

I blinked.

"You aren't very photogenic, are you?" _And Karin supposedly is?_

"_Sasuke_!" I cried out, embarrassed at my most likely horrible photograph—his apparent recoil upon looking at the camera's screen had clearly denoted that. I stood up sharply and tried to get a hold of the device.

"Smile for me, will you?"

"Delete that!" He raised the object out of my reach (which wasn't hard, considering our difference in height) and I felt foolish jumping to obtain the stupid thing.

"I don't know..." He deliberated, staring at the camera which I was too short to acquire. "I kind of like it."

"_Uchiha, _I swear_..._" I leaped in attempt to reach the square device, before nearly toppling over from a loss of balance. Sasuke's free arm extended to grab a hold of me. A laugh escaped from my lips and, just as unthinkingly, a smile took shape on his.

_Click!_

"_Uchiha_!" I demanded again, my voice breaking as it gradually lost seriousness. Loosening his hold around my waist, he spun me to face him and flaunted the camera in front of my face.

"Look." I looked. On the small screen, caught in the middle of laughing, jade orbs sparkling with spirit, was my own self. A huge difference from the bleak, made-up face of superficiality that stared at back me in the mirror earlier on that evening. And, frankly, I looked quite...

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Not exactly the word I had in mind. I was thinking more in the lines of _okay_, or _alright_. Not beautiful. Hearing the word from Sasuke's mouth, I reddened. "Uh, I don't know..."

"I meant my photographic skills, not _you_."

I rolled my eyes. "You're such a—"

Suddenly, everything inside me froze as his words repeated themselves in my mind for the second time...

_Beautiful,_

Then the third time...

..._isn't..._

The fourth...

_... it?_

And my blood turned cold.

* * *

**Hozuki Suigetsu**

"...Please try your call again later."

_Damn it, he isn't answering._

Unwilling to give up, he pressed redial and waited again. It was the fifth time he'd tried calling. He couldn't believe that the bastard found the most perfect timing to disappear. No one, not even Kakashi, knew where he was. The dude just vanished out of freaking nowhere, bidding goodbye with no more than an unhelpful _"I'm heading out." _Damn it. At a time like this, with the matters at hand, the so-called prodigy was supposed to be the first one on the scene. Now they were all already here, and yet _he _was still absent.

"What?" _Finally!_

"Sasuke!" He exploded, "Fuck, man, where the hell are you!?"

"I went out."

"Get your ass down here."

"I can't. I'm with Sakura. Why the hell do you keep calling me?"

"It's Karin. We're in the hospital right now."

A beat of silence.

"I'm coming."

The Uchiha came within ten minutes.

Out of breath, he burst in through the swinging doors of the hospital's emergency room's lobby, the feeble candy girl catching up behind him.

"Where is she?" came the demand Suigetsu had wholly expected from the uptight bastard.

"Look, man, you need to calm—" In a flash, the Uchiha was in front of him, clutching his collar into a tight grip.

"Cut the crap. Is she alright?"

Under normal circumstances, he would've fought against Sasuke. But at this very moment, he only felt sorry for him. He was a good guy—that Sasuke; a bastard, an ass, but he was a good guy, a silent leader who looked out of them all. He didn't deserve what he had coming.

"Sasuke..." and Suigetsu hated having to be the one to break the news.

"She's already dead."

* * *

_Author's Note: *Gasp!* Or, wait, for some people it's a happy dance. lol Y'all knew that was coming. ;)_

_So am I on a roll or what? 3rd quick update on a row! This is what you get for being such supportive, generous readers with your feedbacks/comments. *bows gratefully* This chapter wouldn't be up so early without your numerous reviews. A thousand thank-you's!!_

_**Read, Review & Thank You!**_

_Goin' down to Seattle this weekend!  
Keelah_

_**D i s c l a i m e r **: (just a little reminder)_  
_Naruto & its characters do not belong to me._  
_This particular story, however, is my own creation._


	31. Painkillers

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Sasuke was tough, I knew that._

_His difficult childhood strengthened him both physically and emotionally to the point of granite._

_Yet looking back at the defeated-looking boy huddled in the corner of the room, I wondered just how unbreakable he really was._

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY  
**__**Painkillers**_

A deadened state of numbness and silence hung over the entire room.

No one moved. No one spoke. No one dared to make a sound.

The guys were all here, and it seemed that each of them wholly welcomed the gravity of the atmosphere, one which nearly had me suffocating. Whether it was to escape the overpowering tension that crammed the room, or rid of the gnawing guilt within me, I had the compelling urge to get up and leave. Shock kept me in place however. Just like each and every body in the room, I was confounded, but for an entirely different reason.

Everyone lingered in the waiting area of the emergency ward—yet at the same time we all waited for absolutely nothing. The person they were here for was already dead. The reminder of Karin gave me uncontrollable chills, and I rubbed my arms, warding off the Goosebumps.

Neji stood, impassive as ever, by the soda machine, head hung low to the ground; Shino was positioned against a wall, while Gaara sat on a couch across the room; his gaze caught mine and held it for a moment, before nodding in acknowledgement. I mouthed a small _Hi _in response and looked away.

It wasn't exactly the right time to socialize.

His brother sat on the opposite end of the sofa, and by his feet on the floor, Jugo slumped; Suigetsu was situated around the coffee table located in the middle of the area, while Kiba was positioned by the doorway. Shikamaru was on another couch, brows drawn together, his eyes fixed on the Uchiha.

Following his gaze, my attention landed upon the boy who sat on a chair in the farthest corner of the room, alienated from everyone else. He was leaning over, his elbows resting on his knees, head low as his fingers clutched his forehead, the rest of his face concealed. _Sasuke._

Only an hour ago he'd been so cheerful, taunting me about my lack of picturesque appeal through the lens as we ate contentedly in a warm, tiny restaurant; now those times felt years old. With a single phone call, our state of pleasantness diminished, until it ultimately faded away. The very moment I'd heard the words "I'm coming" from his mouth like a knight to the rescue, I knew our dinner was over.

We had rushed to the nearest hospital, and I had followed suit without a word. As though he'd completely forgot about the fact that I was still with him, Sasuke ran like the wind, and I was forced with the difficulty of keeping up; yet I remained silent. Sasuke's vibe had shifted from friendly to distant, and frankly, I'd been too anxious to utter a word, because I'd known. I'd known just who exactly was in the hospital without having to ask, and I'd known that Sasuke's worry had been in vain, because I knew _she_ was already dead.

Now, at the sight of him hunched up in the corner of the room, refusing to speak to anyone, grave and ever-so sombre, my feeling of anxiety turned into that of utter culpability. He was so unmoving, so shock-still, that I wanted to head over and make sure he was still alive.

He looked so... sad.

A rush of the evening's frosty air suddenly swept into room, drawing heads to turn towards the entrance as its doors swung open, revealing Hatake Kakashi uniformed in his usual green vest and a dark mask. Beside him stood Morino Ibiki, and following behind them, my father. _Oh crap._

"Sakura!" His eyes widened in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Typical for my dad to already be on the scene; despite that he'd left the police business a long time ago, his long ties and wide-ranging connections with the force put him first on call at the mention of anything suspicious. "Uh, hi, Dad," I fidgeted, "I was just..."

"Home, Sakura." He ordered, with a protective voice that belonged solely to a father. "Now."

Notwithstanding the protests I had, I remained silent, knowing any objection against his final word would be ineffective. My dad was more lenient than most fathers, but his occupation gave him a superior edge that made disputes with him just about impossible to win. His path was not one I'd like to cross whenever his serious-cop-mode was turned on.

He, along with Ibiki and Kakashi-who curtly nodded at me, strode past without another word and walked into the emergency room.

Sighing in defeat, I knew it was time for me to go. I didn't even know what made me stay in the first place; I could've headed straight home the moment Sasuke received Suigetsu's call, but I didn't, and I knew not the reason why. Perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps it was a desperate sense of hope that caused me to go with him, whishing on some empathetic star that maybe the call hadn't been about Karin's death after all.

But like always, the Rogue had won, not that I put up much of a fight, anyway.

Feeling vanquished, I started for the exit, and then stopping just before the doorway for a last glance at Sasuke on the other corner of the room. I hesitated. Saying goodbye was out of the question, I doubted he'd care if I left anyway, but it felt wrong just leaving him like this. He came for me when I needed someone; doesn't the favour need be returned? Then, suddenly, I realized the irony of my thoughts. Here I was, deliberating on being there for Sasuke when in all reality I was the reason for his grief.

_I'm sorry._

"Don't worry about him." I turned towards the voice and found Kiba leaning by the entryway. His expression was gloomy, but there was optimism in his tone.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked sceptically, "I've never seen him so..."

"Sad?" Kiba offered. "Yeah. Well, he and Karin were pretty close."

"How?" I blurted the word before I could stop myself. I could pretty well guess the answer right, but somehow the curious part of me wanted a confirmation. The other part however, didn't want to know at all.

The canine-resembling boy looked at me, his gaze unsurprised, "He's never told you?" I shook my head, and prepared myself for the coming flood of unwanted information. "Figures. He probably doesn't want you knowing, but they went out once." He told me, "A year ago; lasted pretty long."

"Oh." Oh. Regardless of the rush of emotions that raced past me like a rushing train at that very moment (the sorry, remorse, disappointment...) the mere syllable was all I could come out with. _Oh._

"Sasuke's tough, though. He'll be fine." He gave me a look, one that indicated he knew something about me. With an ingenious tone, he chided, "You, of all people, should know that this isn't the first loss Sasuke has had to deal with."

I frowned, suddenly remembering the murder of Sasuke's family. Yes, of course I knew; I'd witnessed the crime's negative effects on his life myself, first hand. I pondered over Kiba's words; Sasuke was tough, I knew that. His difficult childhood strengthened him both physically and emotionally to the point of granite.

Yet looking back at the defeated-looking boy huddled in the corner of the room, I wondered just how unbreakable he really was. I used to have this impression of Karin that she was simply another Uchiha fanatic, a clingy girl who'd strip her clothes off to acquire Sasuke's second glance.

I'd been wrong. Heck, I was way off.

They may not be together anymore, but she still meant a lot of Sasuke—that wasn't very hard to figure out, considering his lamentations. His head was buried in his hands, looking so lost, so pained over Karin's death that I began to feel sick.

...because I knew, in the back of my mind, that I was the cause of his heartache.

* * *

My mother had freaked out the very instant I stepped into the front room, hugging me and checking to see if I was alright, then scolding me; and it wasn't just because I'd arrived way past nine.

Surprise, surprise; Dad had already called home to brief her on everything that had happened that evening, including the part about seeing me in the hospital (Thanks a lot Daddy) Mom was being characteristically worried over nothing—again. She always hated it when I got involved in the circumstances of their line of work. After much I-told-you-so's on her part and explanations on mine, I was finally freed to go to my room.

Numbly, I changed into a loose shirt and pyjamas and jumped onto the mattress. I shut my eyes, forcing sleep to prevail over my raging thoughts and body. I tossed and turned, but I never fell into the peaceful state that came with slumber. Sasuke's expression of distraught stuck to my mind like indissoluble glue.

In the middle of the night, the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by muted footsteps walked across the floorboards. I stirred, taking a quick look at the alarm clock beside my bed. _12:08AM_

Jadedly, I got up, creeping out of my room. As noiseless as I could, to avoid making any sounds that would wake Mom from across the hallway, I made my way down the stairs and into the dining area. My dad was sitting at the head of our large, rectangular dinner table, papers splayed out before him, frowning, and his standard black briefcase on the floor by his foot.

"Hey, Dad."

Startled, his head shot up to look at me. "Sakura? Why are you still awake?"

"Couldn't sleep." Which was true. From the time my head hit the pillow, about an hour ago, up till now, I hadn't fully dozed off. In fact, I didn't even know if I slept at all or if I'd merely closed my eyes and eventually lost track of time. I was restless.

Moving en route for the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator and took out from the freezer an ice-covered slice of sweetness. "Cake?" I offered, receiving an eager, terse nod from my father. I pulled out another slice; chocolate for him, vanilla for me. In the face of common misconception, I did not like everything strawberry flavoured—a fact that most people assumed in account of my hair color. I was more a vanilla kind of girl. I knew the word meant plain or dull, but I was also the kind of girl who didn't care. I liked things simple and sweet.

Sitting on the chair beside my dad, I slid the chocolate slice towards him. We ate in silence. Midnight snacks were a habit of ours. If mom were to find out that these secret trips to the kitchen in the middle of the night were cutting into our hours of sleep, she'd have the place locked down for good. Dad never told her. Mom was caring like that; and Dad was cool like that.

Under the dim lighting of the room, I noticed the crease on my father's forehead, the exhaustion in his face that seemed to add on his years. Over the years, his occupation and the hard work it required landed Dad more than the fair share of stress. Like now. Taking on cases that involved police work and investigation weren't his job, it was that of some other layperson, yet they never ceased to turn to him for advice, and Dad in return never turned down the opportunity of lending a hand.

I watched as him as his eyes narrowed in concentration upon the files before him. No doubt they were about Karin. I fidgeted in my seat. Earlier on that evening, back in the hospital, the doctors hadn't given out any information involving the said girl. Everything was more or less hushed, even from the guys, who hadn't been told about anything except for the fact that their comrade was dead. That was it, no details, no explanation. She was just dead.

Doctors, hospitals, authorities, hid things they had no explanations to, usually—I knew this because my parents sometimes withheld matters as well. With no information, there was nothing to say. I couldn't help but wonder just what happened to Karin; it was a question I didn't want to know the response to, yet it was something that had nagged my brain the entire night. I didn't want to find out what dreadful new method of slaughter the Rogue had used this time, and yet, I found myself murmuring,

"What happened?"

My father frowned, his eyes never leaving his documents. "You know that's classified, Sakura."

"Dad, tell me." It wasn't the first time he leaked out confidential information to me. For years, I'd asked him about the cases he took on, and persistent as I was, he never managed to successfully ward me off.

"She got in an accident."

I raised an eyebrow, "An accident?"

He hesitated to elaborate. "A freak accident."

I exhaled, forcing myself to breathe normally as I readied for what was about to come. "What happened?"

"She died from... extreme burns." He looked as confused as I was, as if the words coming out of his own mouth made no sense to him.

"Extreme—" I echoed, incredulous, "What?"

"She was at work, in a fast food restaurant on the other side of town." He explained, deep in thought, recounting more to himself than me. "She was working in the back, kitchen duties... The doors were closed. No one heard her."

Something didn't quite make sense. "Did her... clothing graze some heated stove or something?"

"No. Nothing like that."

Nothing like that? "Did... the some part of the kitchen explode?"

"No..."

"Then how could it have killed her?" What exactly had the Rogue done?

My father's eyes were blank, staring off distantly, lost in thought. "That's the thing," he told me, "We checked the workplace. The kitchen didn't explode. Nothing else was ablaze. The floors were spotless. The smoke detectors never went off. The place was clean, except for immediate areas where she was found..." He shook his head, tired eyes hollowing further. "It's too... precise. Nothing around her was burnt."

I stared at my father. There was something else he wasn't telling me.

"And?" I urged., "What is it?"

"But her whole body... it was completely scorched."

* * *

I woke up the next morning with two notable things:

A painful headache and a compelling urge to chug down a whole bottle of Tylenol.

Honestly, from last night's long half-nice, half-horrible adventure, I was beat. After devouring the rest of my vanilla cake, I hadn't gone to bed till half past one; the fact that I was to attend school in seven hours had completely slipped my mind. Even as I re-entered my room, head hitting the sack of pillows, sleep hadn't engulfed me till after an hour or two of tossing and turning. My body had been tired, my eyelids drowsy; yet my brain had been far from fatigued. The entire night, it went on like a broken record, flashing the images of the Rogue, our most recent conversation, the pictures he'd sent me; and then, Sasuke by my doorway, our trip downtown, our dinner at the small, quiet restaurant; icons of his face distraught with worry and loss at the hospital, the way he'd buried his head in his hands, and when my father caught me and sent me home, followed by his unexplainable account on the death of Karin. All these amassed to one jumbled, blurry, agonizingly prolonged film of a dream.

Much to my relief, things seemed to have returned back to ordinary when I arrived at the Academy on Wednesday morning—actually, it never went out of the ordinary in the first place. It was my life alone that spun out of control. School, on the other hand, had carried on regardless of the innumerable mess that life as incessantly thrown at my direction in the past few days. Everything revolved as though absolutely nothing horrid had happened the night before; homework was passed out, lessons discussed and projects started on. I glided through my first class, never been so grateful for school and its monotonous stability.

But when a troubled Shikamaru approached me by my locker just before second block, I knew everything was far from the state of normality like I hoped for.

An unfamiliar male voice called out to me in the hallway. With the customary in-between-class student traffic that jammed up most of the corridor, I hadn't spotted him at first. It wasn't that hard to eventually catch sight of him though; correct me if I'm wrong, but pineapple hairdos in spiked up ponytails tended to stick out of the crowd. A lot.

He stood in front of me. Oh, how Ino would kill me if she saw this scene. "Hey." He greeted. Big shocker, since we'd never really interacted more than the occasional nods of acknowledgement before; and only did so when it was in every respect necessary. Not to mention that I still hadn't forgotten our unofficial meeting three weeks ago, when he'd stopped Sasuke's fist from raiding my face, only to advise him to just continue the job off school grounds. Needless to say, his first impression on me hadn't been the greatest.

The boy, always the easygoing one in their group, wore an expression that was far from the too-lazy-to-do-anything face he usually had on. I quickly noticed the look of concern on his visage, his actions visibly on edge.

"What's up?" I said in response, taking from locker certain art supplies I was going to need for my next class, and shoving it inside my shoulder bag.

"Is Sasuke with you?"

My head tilted to the side, and I looked around me in an exaggerated manner. I hadn't meant to be sarcastic; the reaction was reflexive. "...No." Obviously not, genius.

Shikamaru didn't seem to have noticed my light mockery though; he was downright humourless at the moment. His face cast a shadow, dismayed at my response. "Have you seen him at all today?"

"No." Finally catching on to the seriousness of his tone, a frown settled upon my face. "Why? Is he okay?"

He growled in frustration, "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I don't know." He barked, "We all don't. Sasuke left the house early today, before anyone else was awake. No one's seen him since then."

Anxiety commenced inside me, making my stomach queasy. "Where do you think he is?"

His head swung from side to side. "We need to find his ass before Kakashi finds out he's missing." He told me, looking helpless. I remembered the photos of them on Sasuke's camera; friendship, one with ties that rooted through time. They'd all been together for quite a while, and somehow this helped me understand where Shikamaru was coming from, concerning over Sasuke like this. "He's not in the greatest condition right now. I'm worried about what he'll do. He does things, you know, when he's upset. Stupid things."

Yeah, I knew. "I... have no idea where he is." was all I could come up with; because, honestly, I really didn't. "I'll keep an eye out for him."

What I did know at this point in time, though, was that something started inside of me…

He nodded, "Appreciate that."

...And it was worry, concern, and a little of fear.

Sasuke was gone again.

And I doubted he had much of a rational mind at the moment either.

* * *

"Hey, Sai."

Sai dipped his head courteously, before insulting, "Hello, Ugly."

"So listen," I started, paying no heed to the blunt affront as I flopped down on a chair beside him. After a while, his daily verbal rudeness had been a part of my routine, and I'd learned to disregard them. He meant nothing by it...most of the time. "Have you seen Sasuke?"

The question seemed to have bothered him, seeing as a hateful scowl appeared on his pale face, one that he didn't bother trying to hide. "Uchiha?" he snapped, "No."

"He's been gone the whole morning."

"I see." Clearly, he didn't care. I sort of expected that. Conversely, I hadn't expected him to give me attitude either. Scowling at the mention of his hated look-alike, that was archetypal; but glaring at me? I hadn't seen that coming.

"What?" I blurted.

"Were you with him last night?" he sounded almost accusing, almost jealous. The worry within me melted into butterflies.

"Uh...yes," his face fell into a frown, "But it wasn't... anything. We had to go to the hospital afterwards, you know, because of..." I couldn't say her name out loud. My mouth opened but nothing came. Actually, I couldn't get myself to say any of _their _names out loud, at least not without choking in remorse and throwing up.

Sai nodded stiffly without needing me to say more. Obviously uninterested, he went back to sketching.

It was then that I realized something, something I hadn't noticed the night before. "Hey...Sai?"

"Yes, Ugly?"

"Where were you, last night? The rest of the guys went and waited at the hospital. You weren't there."

He turned to me, his eyes a deep void of emptiness, his expression unreadable.

"I had matters to attend to."

* * *

Rackets.

Clatters.

I almost failed to catch the faint, rattling noise that seemed to come from nowhere. The bell signalizing lunch had rung about five minutes ago; coming from Art just before our lunch break made it almost impossible to get to the cafeteria before the line got too long, in view of the fact that point A and B were on opposite sides of the school. I often opted to take the routes outside the buildings for a little whiff of fresh air, but mainly so as to avoid jammed-pack rush in the hallways.

On my way along the giant portico that connected the recreational wing to the academic buildings, the sound of clanging glass caught my ear. I looked around, scanning my empty surroundings. A racoon, perhaps?

Then, I heard a moan, causing me to freeze on my spot. Definitely not a raccoon.

I looked at my environs once more, closely listening for the muffled noises, until finally my attention zeroed in on the blue dumpster located a few yards away, hidden off to the side of the building. More rackets, and my heart thumped with fear.

Inhaling, I made my way towards the large garbage container. Before hesitation could stop me, I veered around the corner of the dumpster. My eyes roamed over the person seated on dirty ground, slumped against the wall, one leg stretched out slothfully before him, while the other supported an arm on top of his bent knee. And finally, his hands, one clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his fist, while the other held a half empty bottle.

"Sasuke!" I cried out, marching over to seize the alcohol from his grasp.

He glared at me with unfocused eyes. "Bitch."

"What do you think you're doing!?"

"Hurting," was his deadpanned reply. "Moping. Want me to keep going?"

I knelt on the floor beside him. "I can't believe you're drinking. _On school property._"

"What are you gonna do?" Sasuke grinned, and right then I knew he was out of it. "Grass like before?" I rolled my eyes and reached out to him. He slapped my hand away. "Don't touch me."

"Snap out of it." I ordered; I grabbed his arm, feeling the muscles underneath the thin cloth of black, and hauled him off the ground. He remained unmoved. "Get up, Sasuke."

He gave me the middle finger and brusquely pulled his arm back.

I growled. "I'm trying to help you. Stop pushing me away."

"Don't you _understand, _you brat?" he was suddenly shouting. I looked around, worried that someone might hear. "My family, Karin... everyone I get close to dies!" Then, leaning forward, his face inched closer to mine. His hand stroked cheek. I froze as he murmured softly, "I don't want that happening to you."

I could smell beer on his breath; it was fresh. The aroma of alcohol that came from him was nauseating. This wasn't the Sasuke I'd been getting along with lately. This was the Sasuke I'd hated and feared ever since junior high.

Sighing in frustration, I pushed him off me as roughly as I could, hoping the aggression would somehow kick some sense into him. "You're drunk." I snapped, "You don't know what you're saying."

Suddenly, he was glowering. "Whatever. Like I fucking want to be with you anyway." He barked at me, "Your rich-ass know-it-all personality makes me sick. All your perfection make me sick. _You _make me sick."

"_That's it." _I snarled, finally reaching the limit of my patience. I stood up and went in a quick search for back-up.

I'd easily spotted the guys in cafeteria line. "Psst!" I called, "Shikamaru!" He turned around, raising an eyebrow as he saw me hiding behind a door. I gave him no time for side comments. "I found him." And that was enough to get the brunette moving.

Sasuke was still in the same position I'd left him in. "Man," Shikamaru uttered incredulously as he took in the sight before him. "You're wasted."

"No shit." Sasuke responded candidly.

"What are you doing, Uchiha?" Shikamaru snapped, "You wanna get kicked out of the program? You want out of the team?"

Sasuke focused a hard look on me. "Did the _she_ bring you here?"

Shikamaru sighed as he walked over towards the Uchiha and pulled him off the floor—much more successfully than I had been. "_Damn. _You need to get out of here before Kakashi sees you." The brunette got Sasuke's arm and put it around his shoulders, carrying most of his weight. Sasuke was slowly losing consciousness. Shikamaru nodded at me, "I'll get him home. Thanks."

"No problem," I whispered as I watched him drag Sasuke away. The boy, hanging limp like a ragdoll, was still glaring at me, spitefully. I looked away; seeing him like this made my insides turn, and seeing him glare at me with so much hate made me want to heave. It was as if he knew...as if he knew that I—

A piece of paper, wet and crumpled, lay flaccidly on the ground—it was the same piece of paper that he'd been clutching in a tight fist. I bent to pick it up.

It was a photograph; Karin and Sasuke. A picture I'd seen in his camera, the one with them lying next to each other, Karin smiling and Sasuke merely watching her. The emotion in his eyes... I recognized the sentiment now. Sasuke, the boy I used to consider a monster, was capable of love.

The date on the photo was last year. I turned it over and found a short message. In a messy, coy writing, it read:

_Happy eight months!!  
__-Karin_

Guilt finally caught up to me. Weak in the knees, I slumped against the wall, slowly sliding down onto the dirty floor, the exact same spot Sasuke had been.

It was my turn to suffer.

And this time, I had no Tylenol to reduce the ache.

No painkiller could save me from myself.

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

Major headache.

Sasuke swore under his breath. His brain felt like it had just been racked with a dagger over and over again; the headache's been going at it for the whole day, ever since he'd woken up this morning. He remembered sneaking out of the house yesterday before anyone else was up, but for some reason he'd ended up back in his room, twenty four hours already gone by, without any memory of what had just happened. Maybe the guys finally had it with his moping around over Karin that they decided to slam a brick on his head while he was sleeping. That would explain the headache.

A long, hot shower and a bottle of painkillers helped ease the heavy vertigo.

Pink flashed in his peripheral vision. He blinked, spotting Sakura on the other end of the hallway. She hadn't noticed him. Yet.

He stared at her, silently willing her eyes to look up and meet his—it always worked. Just as they were only a few yards away, Sasuke smirked at the girl, intentionally drilling his gaze into hers.

"Sakura."

But something was off. Her eyes were dull. Her face was solemn. Just like when he'd caught her crying in Dosu's ceremony. And Kin's. And the little girl's, Moegi. Immediately after looking up into his eyes, she turned away, refocusing her eyes straight ahead.

Sakura walked past him as if he was non-existent, ignored him as if he wasn't even there. Suigetsu and Kiba beside him grinned like maniacs, nudging him, jibing "_Ooooh_!" and "_Rejected_!" over and over again.

But their snickering did no effect on him. All at once the smile faded from his lips.

_What the hell's _her_ problem?_

* * *

_Author's Note: You know what I just realized? That we're so close to 1000!_

_I value quality over quantity, (like I'd rather get 1 encouraging feedback or a simple "update soon" than 10 spams, you know?) but when I do focus on the numbers, I look at the amount of comments per chap. It's the first in weeks that I actually looked at the bigger count & realized I'm nearing 1K._

_HOLY CRAP! A MILLION GRATITUDES, YOU GUYS!!!  
Here's another early chapter. =) _

_**Read, Review and a thousand Thank-You's!  
**__Keelah_

_(Something interesting? In a few days, we're having a real-life Holocaust survivor to speak in our school for our WWII unit. Gonna be pretty cool.)_


	32. Built and Broken Walls

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_You lied to me. You knew him and you lied to me._

_Who are these people, Sasuke?"_

_No words. No movement._

_His eyes—more solid than brick and granite, colder than cement—drilled into mine._

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY-ONE  
**__**Built and Broken Walls**_

I looked ahead without a word of response, without even the slightest gesture of greeting, intentionally disregarding the puzzled, scowling Uchiha—who gradually disappeared in my peripheral vision.

Unlike most of the students here in the Academy, who were pompous with wealth and flaunted the material things their well-off parents had bought for them, I'd never been a snob. I was a kind of girl who said hi at least a dozen times whenever she walked down the hallway. I smiled and greeted everyone, never mind the fact that most I only barely knew. Therefore, despite that it was my idea—my choice—to pretend that I hadn't seen Sasuke, I couldn't help but feel a little bad.

If truth be told, I was confused—and the very uncertainty was what drove me to turn away at the sight of the approaching Uchiha. I was unsure about a lot of things, and one of them was where I stood with Sasuke.

_Everyone I get close to dies. I don't want that happening to you..._

His unanticipated show of affection, followed by the blunt, hurtful explosion (whether he'd blurted them out with a drunken mind or not) had, least to say, boggled my mind to a point that left me without a clue in how to interpret his actions. I didn't get it; did he hate me? Was he mad? Did he care?

_You make me sick._

So cross out that last thought—clearly, he didn't care. Regardless of the fact that he hadn't the right mind when he said those words, I believed him. The way he'd glared at me so hatefully, I believed him. It reminded me, despite the incomprehensible amount of time we'd spend together, that nothing had changed between us.

Absolutely nothing.

I couldn't just pretend like everything was normal; after yesterday, whatever was between me and Sasuke had left normality, big time. He couldn't possibly expect me to act like everything as alright, not after his cutting explosion.

However, his words weren't the only thing that troubled me. From the other night, the man that had been following us, and the man Sasuke had argued with outside the restaurant: I'm pretty sure they were the same person. I'd only caught a quick glimpse of the stalking shadow when it passed by over Sasuke's shoulder, as the man in the darkness had been too professionally hidden for me to see. Nonetheless, it was the same familiarity that flashed in Sasuke's eyes, the same…almost detesting sensation. The man knew Sasuke, and vice versa.

He lied to me. Sasuke had lied to me.

Not only that, but there was also the matter of uncanny verbal coincidences.

"_Beautiful, isn't it"_? Involuntarily, I shuddered at the reminder of the infamous quote. It wasn't the first time the Uchiha had said the exact same thing as the Rogue. They were both enigmatic, both painfully direct. Their qualities were alike. They talked alike. They sounded alike.

First, Sasuke's odd behaviour towards me—kind, then loathing, then tender, then hating. Then, Sasuke's evident acquaintance with the man that had been following us, the one he knew and lied about. And finally, the odd likeness he and my worst nightmare shared. The strange similarity drew me away from Sasuke, made me not want to be near him at all. Their words… they were so unusually exact that it was puzzling… unsettling…frightening.

What was going _on_?

* * *

I ignored the Uchiha for the rest of the day.

The deliberate coldness was more instinctive than it was intended, really. Whenever I passed by him and his groupies in the hallway (which was often, as I assumed they were inside today, using one of the vacant craft rooms) I always found myself looking away. Each time, I couldn't help but observe Sasuke in the corner of my eye; he would look at me weird, a blend of both question and irritation settling upon his face. The times we came across each other totalled four; four painful, awkward brush-offs. But that wasn't all.

Two missed calls. Countless eye-contacts. One "Sakura!" exclaim in the hallway between classes, and another near-encounter, which I escaped by sprinting as fast as I could.

And finally, a few minutes just after the bell rang for the day's dismissal, my cellular phone vibrated: one text message.

**From: Sasuke  
****3:11PM  
****Text:**_** Talk to me. What did I do? **_

* * *

"_That's all I have."_

The recognizable voice had me stopping in my tracks—something I didn't have the time to do at the present moment. It was Friday morning, last the day of the week; and it was about half past eight. The late bell had rung several minutes ago, and if I were to be any later than I already was, Asuma would grill me alive. Moreover, a detention after school wasn't quite my ideal way to start off the weekend.

Nonetheless, I turned towards the sound of hushed chattering. With me, logic had never in the past won over curiosity, anyway.

"All there. Satisfied?"

The same voice—a voice I was familiar with all too well, one I could never mistake for another person's. The front courtyard of the Academy was near vacancy; and save for the few hurrying, tardy freshmen, I was alone. Scanning the area for any other presence than my own, my gaze finally landed upon the figure situated next to the side gates. Though his back was turned to me, by his guarded posture, the way his head whipped right and left for any sign of a person walking by, his mysterious, alluring aura, I immediately knew who it was.

_Sasuke?_

"Very. You did a good job, little Uchiha." I frowned at the new voice. I've heard it before, I was sure of it. Sasuke was not alone. Opposite of him, on the other side of the silver, metal railings, a man stood casually, condescendingly—very much unlike the younger lad, who was visibly afraid of being seen. The older man was partly concealed by the tall, thick bushes that served as edgings around the school's perimeter, but against the dark greeneries, his light, blonde hair stuck out. His hand and Sasuke's were adjoined through the spaces of the gate, and between them, from Sasuke to the unknown man, a thick bundle of green leaves was passed.

Money.

"I did _nothing._" Sasuke spat.

My forehead scrunched up in deep suspicion. It was the same guy that had been following us the other night, the same one that Sasuke had been arguing against—much like now. His face was concealed behind the high collar of the coat he wore, one which I recognized faintly. A week ago when I was introduced to Sasuke's friends, a man came by and spoke with him—he had the same coat, shadowed with the same tall lapel.

"Keep me out of whatever the hell you're up to, alright? I don't want to know." Sasuke ordered furiously. "Now leave, before anyone sees you."

Driven by mystification and a demand for answers, I started towards them.

Sensing my attendance, the man's eyes flicked up at my direction, and a sly smile formed slowly on one side of his face. "Well," he reflected, "I think it's a little too late for that."

Sasuke whirled sharply; his eyes narrowed with a razor edge before facing the man again, "Get out of here. Now."

With a wink, the blonde man disappeared, his tall pony tail disappearing as a yellow flash into the thick greeneries. Rigidly, Sasuke turned around, watching with stone-hard obsidians as I approached. I stopped a few feet away from him, a safe distance.

"Who was that?"

He stared at me. "No one." I raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look that obviously denoted my disbelief. He shifted in frustration. "This is none of your business, Sakura."

"Is he the one following us the other night?" No response. A positive. "You lied to me," I stated, "You said you didn't know him. Who is he?"

"A past acquaintance."

"What did he want?"

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Sakura."

"Yeah," I scowled, sardonically. "That's why I'm asking, genius."

"And you have no business knowing them." He snapped back.

"I heard there are people you aren't allowed to speak to..." I began cautiously, poking around the bush—or rather poking directly at it. "Is he one of them?" I nodded at the gate where the man had last been, "Does Kakashi know?"

In an instant, his eyes hardened. Only three words came out of his mouth, and it came as an unyielding order: "You don't talk."

"Who are these people, Sasuke?"

I might as well have been talking to myself—the Uchiha stood stiffly, unwaveringly, blending in to the still, motionless surroundings about him. He showed no sign of ever perceiving my questions—wordlessly looked at me, held my gaze in an intent, untiring stare.

"Sasuke." I scowled impatiently,"Say something."

He stared at me, his gaze in circumspection, lips pressed into a firm, tight line. I realized then what he was doing: silent treatment. Right. I've ignored him, and this was what I got. Ironic how I came here to grill him, and now I was the one being punished; Sasuke was upset with me, and somehow that didn't settle right in my stomach.

"What was the money for?"

I tried to tell myself that it was only Uchiha Sasuke, the same guy who'd threatened me many times before, and the one who belittled everything about me. But a little voice in my head knew that Sasuke had been rather decent to me lately, and that I, in turn, had been a bitch to him yesterday in the hallways, and for the rest of the afternoon for that matter.

"Where did you get the money?"

His glacial eyes sharpened. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're referring to."

"Really?"

"What with the third-degree?" He snapped suddenly, bottomless black ice substituting for where his eyes had once been.

"Why are you so pissed off?"

He glared. "I thought we were okay."

"We are—" I backtracked, only to be cut off by his following demand,

"So why'd you dog me yesterday?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." I expressed with false remorse, sarcasm now painting over my tone and anger building inside of me. "I mean, I'm entirely the one to blame for your drinking on in school, right? It's my fault that I found and tried to help you, yet what I get in return is a rant on how sickened you are of me.."

"_What?_" He exclaimed heatedly, "You're mad because of _that?_ I was drunk, Sakura. I don't even remember what you're talking about. I didn't mean it. So why don't you stop being so oversensitive already?"

"I will, if you stop being a jerk!"

"A jerk?" He taunted back, "A real mature comeback." I opened my mouth to retort, but he went on, "I used to think we could actually pull this off, you know? Being friends. I mean, we barely fought anymore. I had a great time whenever I'm with you. We went to the shore, I had you meet my friends, we hung out. You called and I was there, remember? Now you're treating me like none of that ever happened. I thought we were okay. I even thought I kind of—" He halted, "I was starting to..."

"What?"

"Forget it." He grumbled, running an aggravated hand through the spiked locks of his hair. "Just...forget all of it. I was wrong, okay? Boy, I was wrong! You're not who I thought you were."

"Sasuke—"

"I have to go." He interjected. For a moment, he merely looked me, eyes scanning up and down. My gaze matched him, unfaltering, almost stubborn. A sharp, forced chuckle escaped from his lips, and Sasuke shook his head in disbelief. "I was wrong about you, Haruno."

_Haruno. _The name echoed in my head. No longer "Sakura" or any other nickname but _Haruno._

It was then that I realized: we were back to where we started; back to hating each other, back to dislike and disapprovals. The ice that had begun to melt between us was slowly freezing back up, building again the barrier that kept us apart, the wall we had attempted to break and failed.

A wall was beginning to build between us, gradually, yet steadily.

Uchiha Sasuke walked away.

* * *

The Hidden Leaves Academy had always been separated from the many other standard secondary schools in the region. Due to the fact that it was a private school, and _most _of the student body were made up of pretty decent people, students here weren't as obnoxious. Our behaviour was less radical than most, less rebellious, less hormonal. In an outsider's point-of-view, we were considered the "good kids".

This made the school rather boring. Typical high school scandals (such as cat fights, rumbles, students on high, possession of drugs or weapons) if not non-existent, were rare. For this reason, gossipers—who were usually fed with nothing much—jumped at every little opportunity to exercise their loquaciousness, rendering news to travel faster than the speed of lightning.

Today was one of those days where the mouths of gossipers worked double time, spreading their tittle-tattles throughout the hallways, from ear to ear, missing no one. I didn't need anyone to particularly inform me of what was going on; when a hundred voices spoke of a single report, and people excited over the same issue, whispers tended to volume up louder than a regular shout. Simply walking down the corridors, dense with student traffic, was enough to get me all the information I needed to bring me up to date.

Graffiti.

A few hours were all it took for the entire school to be notified. By lunchtime, the matter was all anyone could talk about. _Who could have done it?... I bet you it was one of those guys. They tagged that wall... It's pretty creepy, if you ask me... The teachers are going crazy about it!... It's probably just pointless doodles from an insane person... This is just awesome!... So weird..._

"Just look at this." I turned my attention Ino, slouched in her seat beside me, her food nearly untouched on the table before her. Her eyes roamed around the large food court, outwardly disgusted at the sight of every student. "One little act of felony, and all of a sudden everyone's buzzed. This is the most pathetic high school ever."

"Your school spirit is inspiring." I remarked sarcastically.

"Seriously, though." Ino persisted, her expression bored; she was the queen of gossip—apparently, however, she hadn't found the latest buzz all that interesting or scandalous enough. "Some vandalism on school property; so what? The whole student body's freaking about it. We're so lame."

"Heard it was _vandalisms, _like a whole wall of it." I chirped, not quite interested myself, but playing along. "Or so they say."

"Reading what? RM hearts RH? IY and SN forever? Amanda is a bitch? Kai is so hot? Or whatever else kids write on walls these days. So childish."

I grinned, rolling my eyes. A steady silence fell upon Ino as an undying hum of voices pulsated around us. Even the rest of our friends spoke of the same topic. To be honest, I agreed with Ino; I didn't find the new subject of everyone's attention all that big of a deal.

"Let's go."

I raised an eyebrow, staring in puzzlement as Ino gathered her things and stood up from her seat. "Where?"

"We're seeing this so-called graffiti everyone's freaking about." I nearly gaped; was it not just a second ago that I thought she and I were on the same page on this matter? Was it not her that just called everyone lame for being hooked so easily? "Look," Ino huffed, as she took in the incredulous look I sent her. "No matter how boring this thing is, I need to be updated. And as a good friend, you have an obligation to go with me."

The choice was not mine, I should've known.

About a minute later, I found myself squeezing through a mob of dozens that gathered around the north side of the Academy, all to catch a glimpse of the vandalized wall. "Ow!" I exclaimed as a large shoe came crashing down on my toe. With a last shove, I broke out into the front row of the crowd and stared at the scene before me.

"Look. There it is!" Ino's face scrunched in confusion as she strained to see the writing on the wall, "Holy crap; it's worse than I thought."

My gaze automatically followed hers. A few meters away on the other side of the yard, hidden in the small alley that was between the parking lot and the back door, my eyes landed upon the building's side wall.

In that instant, everything inside of me froze to stone.

It wasn't an ordinary tag, or graffiti, or little notes, painted on that wall.

There were no declarations of love, or heart shapes, nor were there tributes to forever friendships, or high school dramas, or adoration for the school hottie.

In an odd blend of crimson and maroon against the white paint, consisting of dried blobs and and sketchy strokes, the ragged words filled up the entire wall.

_**Every breath you take**_

_**Every move you make**_

_**Every step you take**_

_**I am watching**_

_**FOUR DOWN.  
WHO'S NEXT TO GO?**_

_**Guess what kind of ink I'm using...**_

**_You. Cannot._**

**_Escape. Me._**

All of them, a reminder of Death.

* * *

I darted along the corridors of the half-empty Academy.

The hallways were quickly clearing out—students rushed out of the exits, keen to get away from the learning-filled buildings. If I were any other normal student, I would have been doing the very same thing, hurrying to leave, itching for the weekend to finally begin. However, the circumstance I was in at the moment was anything but normal. I, for one, was on a mission for answers.

My destination? Kakashi's office. I had questions, and he had the responses to them—at least I hoped he did. They should have found out by now who wrote on that wall, right? It had already been... nearly three hours since the writings transpired. Three hours was enough time; within those one-hundred and eighty minutes, they must've already discovered the offender behind this.

And if they did, I had to know.

Turning around a corner, the Human Resources Office finally appeared into view. There was no hesitation in me. I marched inside the faculty room, drawing the eyes of disapproval from the many teachers that were present (as students were not allowed inside, much less if they were uninvited) yet I paid no heed to any of them. I strode straight for Kakashi's office and, seeing the door already ajar, walked right in.

I halted by the doorway.

Standing in front of Kakashi's desk, with his back facing me, was Uchiha Sasuke.

Kakashi was yelling. Sasuke was yelling.

His entire body was rigid, strained, as if he were to explode any second now.

They were arguing, but none of their dispute settled in my brain...because all that filled my mind at that very second was Sasuke—or rather, his hands. Clenched into fists behind his back, hidden from Kakashi's sight but not from mine, his palm, his fingers, were stained red.

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

"I got caught up, Kakashi. Whatever."

"It's not _whatever._" Hatake Kakashi, the man he'd grown to acknowledge as his friend, his brother, and even as his father, yelled at him with blame. Sasuke flinched. "Fact is: you were late this morning. You were gone for a good thirty minutes. Just before that tag came up. Look, I've got teachers breathing down my neck here—"

"Who?" he demanded, "That old man Watkins? Screw him."

"I know you're on the man's hit list." Kakashi offered, "Knowing that, don't give him the opportunity to put the blame on you. Straighten up, Sasuke! Since you weren't present at that time, you are now _suspected _by much of the faculty, and I have no say in that matter. There are angry staff and parents out there, who'd doubt anyone just to have someone to blame. Right now, you are that someone."

"I didn't do it." Sasuke maintained; impatience and fury now running through his veins. "They have no proof. Kakashi you know I—"

"Yes, I know it wasn't you." Kakashi replied. "That is not my point. What concerns me most is that you were late this morning. It doesn't take half an hour to walk from work to school. If only you'd arrived on time, if you were with the group at the time the tags came up, no one would suspect you right now. Which brings me back to the initial question: where were you?"

"I told you," he repeated, "I got caught up."

"You met with them?" came the blunt, straightforward allegation. Sasuke opened his mouth in defence, but before any words came out, Kakashi raised a flimsy piece of paper. He recognized it immediately. "I saw this... inserted in one of your binders. A transaction receipt. Withdrawal of money. Five hundred."

Sasuke exhaled slowly, trying to think up of a believable excuse. There was none. "Look," he gave up, "I didn't buy from them, and it was just a little financial support. A few bucks I saved up. It wasn't for me."

"So that's it?" Kakashi blurted, incredulous as frustration intensified in the gaze of his solely visible eye. "You throw away your savings? Risk everything you've worked for to help these idiots who've only screwed you over?"

He stiffened. "Shut up. Hatake, you don't know shit."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!"

"You're not my older brother." Sasuke snapped, "Stop acting like it."

Kakashi immediately silenced. A long pause followed afterwards. Then, monotonously, with less compassion and more formality, the older man spoke, "I can have you out of the program, the house, for that violation you just did."

Sasuke growled, "You wouldn't."

"One chance." Kakashi stated, still angered, but now worn out. "Last chance. This is your last stop, Sasuke, you know that. If you mess this up, you know you're heading right where _he_ is." The younger boy clenched his fists, his teeth nearly gnashing in rage. Without hearing his side on the matter, Kakashi dismissed, "You may go."

Good. This place was getting suffocating anyway, he thought. He turned to take his leave.

Sasuke stopped in his tracks. Blocking the doorway, staring at him with sharp emeralds, was Haruno Sakura.

Just like everyone else, just like Kakashi...the accusation glazed over bewildered expression.

And it hurt him like _hell_ to see mistrust back in her eyes.

* * *

_Author's Note: I guess the only real way to thank you for the 1K is to keep updating, to NOT abandon this fic. So I promise I won't. Rest assured, Imma write till the end!_

_&Just so you know, all the mystery about Sasuke will be explained – eventually. But, if you're still perplexed & feel the need to explode with a hundred questions, feel free to rant them in your comment. I won't mind. x]_

_(HAPPY BIRTHDAY to AMY! Hope this update serves as a somewhat belated present!)_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!  
**__Your humble, grateful writer,  
__Keelah_

_**pc**: You're always anonymous, so I never get to reply to your reviews. Well, here you go, =) for faithfully reviewing every single chapter! I look forward to what you have to say every time I update, and I've come to really value your feedbacks. Thanks so much!_

_**lizziestuck91**: completely NOT snotty. Thanks for the correction! =) I appreciate it._


	33. Run, My Dear

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_(I'm It. Ready?)_

_The back door slammed._

_(Three...)_

_I couldn't bring myself to turn around._

_(Two...)_

_Footsteps._

_(One.)_

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY-TWO  
**__**Run, My Dear**_

Jade clashed with onyx, emeralds locked with obsidians, and light with dark. For a long, outstretched moment, all that occurred was the silent battle between his eyes and mine, both glaring, both despising. Then, without a word, he passed me, our shoulders brushing, and walked out the door.

"Sakura?" Kakashi voiced out of surprise, "Is... there anything you need?"

Even as Sasuke ambled away, my eyes trailed behind him, unable to detach my gaze from his hands. His palm and fingers, smeared in scarlet, was all I could think of in that very instant.

"Sakura? Is there something I can do for you?"

"No." I uttered unconsciously, "Never mind. I'm good."

I think I've just found my answer.

* * *

Mind-weary and at a loss, I dropped all my things on the ground in a careless manner, feeling nothing but grateful to be back in the safety of my own home. Thoughts ran through my head no matter how much I tried blocking them. I've been having a brain rush ever since this afternoon. I knew what I saw, Sasuke's hands blemished in the same colour as the writings on that wall, yet I didn't know what to make out of it. It didn't settle right in my stomach; however, a lot of things about Sasuke had been rather unsettling lately. This was merely another thing to add on the growing list. I would have to get a notebook soon if I were to continue keeping track of the Uchiha's oddities.

**Rogue: Welcome Back.**

My eyes flicked to the flashing window on my desktop; the orange highlight blinked insistently, almost warningly. With caution, I made my way towards the computer in the other corner of the room.

**Rogue: You know, I'm kind of getting bored of this.**

**lilpinkchiq: good. Then leave me alone already.**

**Rogue: Oh, I'm not done with you.**

**Rogue: In fact, I still have plenty in mind**

**lilpinkchiq: You bastard.**

**Rogue: How about we play a game? I like games.**

I didn't type any reply.

**Rogue: Oh. I have an idea.**

**Rogue: I'm thinking we should play...**

_**lilpinkchiq has logged off.**_

I drew a deep breath of relief, backing away from the computer before slumping onto the bed. The last thing I wanted was to play games with Death itself. I didn't want to know what plans he had in that twisted, merciless mind of his. I could only imagine how utterly unfortunate it would be for me, and how wholly satisfying for him—the devil who quenched his thirst with blood. I shuddered.

The sound of knocking drew me out of the whirlwind in my head. "Sakura?"

I kept my eyes shut, no longer having the energy to open them, and greeted resignedly, "Hi, Daddy."

"Well, that's the spirit!" He remarked sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe. "Tough day, kid?" I gave a meek nod. My father chuckled, "You're in high school. You don't know anything about stress. Just wait till you get older."

"I'll pass."

"Your mother and I will be out for the weekend." He informed, though none of what he said actually came through in my brain. "Leaving early tomorrow. You gonna be alright by yourself?"

"Always." I replied without thinking, shutting my eyes tighter as an aching sensation began to form in the back of my head. I wanted to scream, to yell out help, anything that would save me from this... mess. However help from a third person would only worsen the already bloody situation. The involvement of those dead because of me was far from enough. I needn't include more.

"Hey Dad?" I called out, "Close the lights please."

I felt a peck on my forehead, a soft "_Goodnight, baby"; _then, the _click _of the lights and the door closing.

Darkness soon prevailed.

* * *

_**You received instant messages while you were offline.  
**_**Rogue sent Friday, 8:55:08 PM: **

**Tag.**

I licked my dried lips in deep thought, pondering over the message that had popped up the initial second I'd logged on, the very first thing that greeted me when I woke up at noon. Though I knew checking my mail wouldn't have done me any benefits, I couldn't help but sign back on anyway. It was the inkling of something waiting for me on Messenger that drove me to go ahead and check if the hunch was true. Turned out it was.

Now resting on my desktop, the single word of the message seemed in every respect harmless. Yet being familiar with the Rogue, with how that perverse mind of his worked, I knew the meaning beneath that one syllabic statement was in the vicinity of danger.

I doubted he meant we play cat-and-mouse over the internet. He wouldn't have suggested the very game if he had no intention of making it _real—_the same way he'd made our game of Hide-n-Seek, our Game of Gore (supposedly pretend), so painfully existent.

The sound of the doorbell ringing suddenly through the silence had me jolting with fright, and I gasped a sharp intake of air, flew a hand over my palpitating chest. The doorbell rang twice…three times… and then, the raucous hammering of fists against the door. Finally breaking out of my trance, I left my room and fleeted down the stairway. Unhooking the lock, I swung the front doors wide open.

There was no one….nothing…. with the exception of the little white envelope lying pleasantly on the doorstep. With a deadened sensation, I picked up the packet, its contents I somehow already knew. In spite of this, as though my fingers had somehow been detached from my brain and I could no longer control them, I opened the envelope.

Indistinguishable shapes of different sizes, positioned in different angels, filled up the paper entirely. I swivelled the print clockwise and vice versa, trying to figure out which way was the top and which, the bottom. The whole page was covered in reds and blacks and pale pinks—red for blood, black for scorched skin, and pale pink for what I could only interpret as raw, exposed tissues. The disoriented cadaver lay comatose on the cemented ground, cooked and roasted, inside and out. The face was almost impossible to tell apart from the rest of the body, with pieces of burnt skin revoltingly chipping away at every inch.

It took me a while to realize that the image was a human being, now discoloured and molten by flames.

Karin. Or what was left of her, anyway.

My guess was right.

A knot began to form in the center of my throat, tightening and tightening until I could breathe no longer, until I was left with a gaping mouth desperate for air, desperate to scream, yet no sound emitted.

On the other side of the picture, inscribed in a small, dreadfully, flawless handwriting, it read:

_**I'm it. Ready?**_

Suddenly, from deep inside the house, the back door slammed.

_**3…**_

Yet I couldn't bring myself to turn around.

_**2…**_

Footsteps.

_**1.**_

And then, I felt a breath on the back of my neck, a whisper in my ear…

So close… so real…

"_RUN."_

* * *

I didn't turn around; didn't grab a coat, or proper shoes; didn't even bother locking the front door. I did the one thing my instincts told me to do, the one thing he told me to do. I only ran.

Fleeting aimlessly down the street, I sprinted as fast as I could, my heart racing along with my dashing limbs. The thudding filled the caverns of my brain, blocking any rational sense I might have had, leaving behind only the numb sensation of terror and panic. My legs pumped furiously beneath me, and yet no matter how fast I dashed, I felt his presence near. Behind me. Laughing.

An uneven part of the pavement caught my foot, tripping me off balance, but I didn't dare stop. Clumsily, I regained my footing and ran.

_Thud, thud, thud, _came the heavy footfalls of his feet. Or was the sound the racket my heart was making? I could no longer tell them apart. All I could hear was a steady hammering; thumps, thuds and my struggled panting all meshed together in one humdrum noise.

The scenery changed around me. The suburbs disappeared along with the parks and trees, and in their place: tall, proud buildings and an over-packed flow of traffic. Even in the middle of the day, the metropolis lights already sparkled and shined. Filling the atmosphere were undying horns and sirens that made up the city-life soundtrack.

All without a warning, I turned sharply to the left, crossing the street, evading the vehicles that came uncomfortably close to driving me over. "Hey!" called out a man from an SUV that zipped past, followed by numerous, complaining honks. I paid heed to none of them, nearly collapsing on the ground as I reached the other side. Out of breath and drenched with sweat, I looked across the street to see if anyone had followed. No one had.

Gulping in an air of relief, I slowed down to a speedy-walk, blending in with the shoppers and employees that hustled up and down the busy lane.

I strolled about for several minutes, taking the time to calm my rattled nerves, the rapid beating of the blood-pumping organ in my chest. Soon, equanimity settled within me.

Up ahead, there was an ordinary crosswalk, surrounded with people of all ages and standings, waiting for the signal to flash the green profile of a walking man. Approaching the crowd, I was left with no other choice but to wait with the rest of them. Across the street, the same overcrowded number of people lingered by the curb, waiting to cross. In the front line of the multitude, a lawyer-like man tapped his foot impatiently; a baby cried; a girl ran around carelessly, her mom scolding her; a skater lingered against the light pole; a man, with a dark hood and his face concealed within its shadow, stood in front of the crowd, waiting patiently, unlike the rest. His feet were planted stubbornly into the pavement, unmoving, inert.

Suddenly, from across the lane, he looked up, eyes -though I couldn't see them- staring right into mine, as if he knew I'd been looking at him. Then, without warning, a curved line broke out of his face; he smiled at me. Not in a flirtatious way. Not in a friendly way, but disgustingly, forebodingly...

Wickedly.

_Thud-thud._

Fright spreading back in my body, I turned a hundred-and-eighty and sprinted.

A noise of beeps from automobiles and complaints echoed behind me, and without turning around, I knew. He had, in spite of the red signal, refused to wait and crossed the street. He was coming after me.

I darted faster, not caring about my destination, or there lack of. My first priority, my first instinct, was to get as far away possible as I could from him. So I ran. A few meters down the road, I spotted a dark, narrow alleyway. I didn't think. Acting purely based on instincts and an animalistic sense of survival, I turned around the corner, taking cover into the darkness and filth that filled the passage's caverns. I ran further into the alley before halting as I reached a corner, panting as my knees shook from fatigue, my legs threatening to cave in beneath me.

"_Oh, don't stop..."_ I froze, the slurring voice resonating against the high walls of the alley. Whirling around, I spotted a dark figure standing ominously on the other side. I gulped, taking in as much as I could of the sight in the shadowy lane. It was the first time I'd actually seen the Rogue in person—though attributable to the distance and dimness, a masculine blur in a black, broad-spectrum hoody was the clearest I could see. Merely the sight of him though, no matter how formless, made him more real in my mind. All this time, the image of a sadistic villain extracted from the stereotypical movie was how I visualized the Rogue. Now, seeing him before my eyes, physically present only a few meters away, watching me, waiting for me... the practicality of the circumstance shook me to the bone.

He was real.

After a moment of immobility from his side and mine, he stepped forward, closer to where I was. He wore what looked to be, from where I was, a grin on his face and malevolence in his eyes, sparkling with eagerness. He took another step, and after a beat, another one.

"_Keep running, my dear."_ His whispers, though low, bounced against the tall walls, reverberating throughout the entire grace and unhurriedness, he moved as if he knew he could catch me no matter what. _"We are not done playing."_

My eyes darted around the claustrophobic place, searching for any sort of exit. It was a two-way passage; the closest outlet, the one he was blocking, was out of the question. That left me with only one other option. Before long I was back on the run, further and deeper into the unknown alleyways.

Amidst my panicked footfalls, the sensation of fear through my veins, the noise of rapid heartbeats deafening my ears, I heard his voice behind me echoing, _"That's it, Sakura._

"_Run from me, like the scared little mouse you are..."_

And like a scared little mouse, I did what I was told.

* * *

My eyes wandered up and down the lane, which looked every bit the same as the ones before. I'd slowed down to a light meander after several minutes of sprinting upon realizing the fact that _he_ hadn't come after me. The sole knowledge that I was running had lived up enough to his satisfaction, I supposed. I'd played his game, did what he wanted, and had lost in the process. Symbolically and literally.

How did Sasuke ever find his way around in this mind-muddling warren?

Within the span of my venture, I'd come across two looming figures, one addict, and an innumerable amount of homeless people. They stared at me, questioningly and curiously; for awhile I managed to overlook their gazes, but soon an inkling of panic sparked in the back of my head, sending me running once more.

Eventually, a break against the usual red brick caught my eye. On the opposite side of the pathway was an opening back to the business district, to both people and civilization. Finally. Keen to get out of this infinite maze, I sprinted out of the clogged passage.

Just as I broke out in the open however, a body slammed against mine, rendering me off balance.

"Sakura?" I blinked, looking up to find a very puzzled dark-haired boy.

"Sai!" I exclaimed, just as surprised as he seemed to be. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on my way back to the group home," he replied, "You?"

"I'm just buying a few things." I fibbed, then feeling Sai's eyes scan my figure up and down, taking in my heavy pants and dirtied cloths. His gaze quickly flicked past my shoulder, towards the alley I'd just emerged from. "Shortcut." I explained swiftly.

He gave a dispassionate nod, "I see." Involuntarily scanning down, my eyes settled about the white plastic bag in his hand; its translucence clued me in on what was inside. Something red.

"What's that?"

"Oh. I found it." He pulled out from the bag a metallic cylinder, with smears of burgundy and a cap on top. It took a while for it process in my brain that the object he held in his hand was a spray paint bottle—a similar colour to that of the writings on the school wall. Words were vacuumed right out of my mouth. "It's a spray paint bottle."

"Where did you get that?" I asked incredulously. My eyes were glued upon the bottle Sai was holding up, while my brain looked back in yesterday's time and recalled that very same hue blotched on Sasuke's hands.

"I found it in the guys' changing room, tucked in the corner near one of the lockers." I shifted my gaze to Sai and found him staring at me, his eyes a void of black, the curve of his mouth perplexed but skin-deep. "I believe Uchiha was using that locker."

I stiffened, "Sasuke? That's his?"

"I'm not sure." Sai replied, uncertainly. "Wouldn't want to jump to conclusions, right?"

Conclusions were exactly what I was jumping to at this very instant. Possible explanations, most of which were stereotypically biased, stormed through my head in a large whirlwind too chaotic for me to comprehend. None of them seemed to match with Sasuke's rather good-natured behaviour these past few days. He couldn't possibly be this person one minute, and then turn into someone completely opposite the next, could he? I had, at the moment, the greatest urge to grill Sasuke. "What are you gonna do with the bottle?"

"Well," Sai pondered, "I considered handing it over to Kakashi, let him do the thinking, you know?"

"I'll do it for you." The statement had blurted from my mouth without it passing my brain first for evaluation, and I ended up sounding far too keen. I seemed to be more surprised at my outbreak than Sai was however.

"You sure?" He said as I nodded, and then handed the plastic bag to me. My hand wrapped around the bottle, fingering the dried up paint that stained the tinny surface. An endless amount of questions were occurring in my head, and Sasuke was to answer them—whether he liked it or not. A confrontation was necessary, and it was imminent. "I should get going."

I snapped out of my thoughts. "Oh—right, me too. Uh, I'll see you on Monday?"

"Yes," he smiled again, a small arced line upon his lips, a lopsided smirk. A nuance I couldn't put a finger on painted across his eyes. "I'll see you."

As I watched him walk away, my head fell to the side, wondering.

* * *

I made up my mind the moment my eyes flickered open on Monday morning.

The spray paint can, now nestled within the cotton caverns of my purse, had nagged my brain the entire night, invading my thoughts even as I was asleep. The demand for an explanation nearly drove me out of bed and straight for Sasuke's house—but I'd already done that once and it hadn't ended all too well. Uchiha was not a fan of surprises, which all the more made me want to catch him off guard. And I had just the idea.

Sasuke and his posse weren't at the Academy that morning due to, as I've heard, complaints from both parents and staff—I knew, however, just where to find them, and him, to be more specific. Once the lunch bell rang at the end of second period, I set off: out the school grounds, down the street, past my house, and towards the sole destination I had in mind.

Konoha Secondary School was even smaller than I'd envisioned it to be. It took up the community building's two top floors, plus a three-story annex by the parking lot, hidden behind the Recreational Center. The high school, though much smaller in space, had an even larger student count—the hallway crowd was literally shoulder-to-shoulder, people muddled into a chaotic traffic as no one seemed to know anything about the Keep-Right principle. I felt utterly off course amidst the multitude, and people were beginning to stare, their eyes first scanning, then observing, and ultimately judging.

Apparently, it wasn't very hard to figure out that I didn't belong here.

Ignoring the gazes (and the occasional catcalls here and there) I followed the flow of the crowd and found myself in a large, table filled room that reeked of unhandled, hastily prepared meals. The cafeteria—perfect. I scanned the heads of students, different cliques (the pretties, the smart people, athletes, the Asians, Goths...) each taking up an entire counter for themselves. Finally, my eyes landed upon the table in the far corner of the cafeteria, where a familiar group of boys chatted and laughed boisterously, making more noise than everyone else combined.

I hesitated, though before indecision grew any more I regained composure and told myself that I was _not _going to be intimidated—despite the little voice in my head that insisted on backing out. But no—drawing in a deep breath, I started towards them.

"Sasuke?"

A wave of silence swept past the entire table. They shut up (miraculously) and looked up to stare at me with eyes glazed in surprise and amusement. Every single one of them turned to unreservedly ogle at my direction—all except one.

"Sasuke." I called again, tapping his shoulder this time. He didn't move. "Hello?"

Beside him, Suigetsu nudged his ribs, whispering something that made blood flow rapidly to my cheeks. I cleared my throat, ignoring the boorish remark, and turned my attention to the dark-haired boy who _still _hadn't turned around.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Finally, he turned his head in a languid manner, as though it took that much effort to rotate his neck a few inches to the right, and met my eyes.

"Go for it."

"Alone." I told him, "I'd like to talk to you _alone_."

* * *

**Uchiha Sasuke**

"_Ooooooohh!"_

Oh goddamnit.

His friends were downright humiliating, cooing like the bunch of kindergarteners they were. The urge to roll his eyes was nearly uncontrollable. He felt a force jolting him forward as Kiba's hand landed on his back, a slap of awe and respect. "All _right, _dude!"

He didn't move. Despite the greatest itch to pummel each of his friends (_especially _Suigetsu for his prior side comment. He'll kill him for even _thinking_ about her in that way) he remained an unmoving rock—frankly, Sakura's voice had frozen him. She was here, there and everywhere, even in his _sleep_; and now in the only place he thought he could escape her, she shows up.

Annoying.

It struck him that she wasn't going to get lost, so, in one fluid motion, he swung his legs over the bench and got up. Standing tall and proud, he towered over her. She looked like a stubborn child, holding her ground as her arms folded across her chest, lips pressed into a thin line, and eyes narrowed into slits (which looked _far _from intimidating, just for the record). If in another time, he would have found it charming—but at the moment, it was simply beyond irritating.

Sakura just gave a whole new definition to the word "nuisance".

He jerked his head to the right, and she followed him away from the table, away from his friends, as he led her through the halls and eventually outside the building. Then, suddenly halting, he swirled around and glared into her stones of emerald. "What do you want?" he demanded.

From her bag, she pulled out the object he was certain he had already gotten rid off. Seeing the spray-paint bottle in her hand, and knowing how drastic her imaginations were when it came to drawing conclusions that concerned his unlawfulness, he stiffened. The ice in his eyes battled that of Antarctica's. "That," he snarled, opposing the accusation he knew was about to come, "is not mine."

"On the defensive, already?" Sakura confronted. When he didn't respond, she broke down, suddenly notches louder, "I can't... believe... _You're_ the one? You _vandalised_ that wall? You wrote those messages? Why are you _doing _this! I know you hate me, but... what—are you _working _for him? Or _are _you him? Did you kill all those—?"

Him? Who? "_What?_" Sasuke snapped incredulously, disbelief and confusion written all through his face. "What in hell are you talking about, woman? I had nothing to do with the vandalism in the Academy. You're in way over your head, seriously."

"You're hands were red when I saw you in Kakashi's office the other day." she accused, and then adding, "Sai said he found this can in your locker."

At the mention of his mirror image, anger instantly fumed in his veins. "Look," he snapped, his patience reaching its limit and further. "I don't know what you're accusing me with, to hell with your suspicions, but I didn't do it. I didn't paint that wall. Don't believe everything you're told."

"Why? Is there anything you're hiding that Sai might tell me?"

"God," he ran a frustrated hand through his raven locks, eyes scrunched in a concentrated frown, "This is one of the times I feel like smashing your head."

"Yeah? Well, the sidewalk's not that far from here. You gonna pull another Abumi on me?"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and he was stung instantly. He looked up at her, several sensations going through his body at once—but the most distinctive were anger and hurt. "So we're back to that, huh?" he asked in a low voice. She only stared at him with unfaltering accusation. He shook his head out of incredulity. If she was already so convinced, then why the need to speak to him? "You're impossible."

"And you are cold-blooded."

"I don't care what you think of me." He snapped. Lie; that was a lie.

"I'll turn it in to Kakashi." She informed, threatening, as he turned to walk away. He made no move to turn back.

"You do that," he said, his back to her. Candidly, he no longer cared. _Lies._

To hell with her. Another lie.

"I don't need to prove anything to you."

A single word echoed repeatedly in his skull as he turned to walk away, knowing the whispers of his subconscious spoke the truth:

_Lies, lies, lies._

* * *

_Author's Note: You know what I HATE? The fact that "DELETE STORY" is so freakin blatant on the Story Editing page__. It's SO scary! You don't know how many times I've accidentally grazed the mouse pointer over that dreadful link & just freaked out. lol_

_Does anyone know if pops out an alert or a warning before it completely erases the fic? Or does the site just completely erases story the moment the button's clicked? 'Cause I'm always so paranoid of where I aim the mouse now. x[ _

_**Read, Review and (a million) Thank You!** I'd love to hear what you think of this chap! & To those who have reviewed before, I can't express my gratitude enough! Thanks a lot for the support/encouragement you guys!_

_Your aspiring writer,  
__Keelah _


	34. Secret, Silent Screams

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_The Rogue had zipped my mouth and digested the key._

_My lips were stitched together,_

_He was the embroiderer,_

_Fear was the thread._

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY-THREE  
**__**Secret, Silent Screams**_

Oh, the nerve of him!

I couldn't believe how utterly egocentric the Uchiha was being, brushing me off like I was as insignificant to him as a miniature ant. The moment the word "sidewalk" slipped out of my mouth, I knew I had crossed the line. I'd seen the change in his eyes, the shift of sentiments from annoyance to something deeper; I had hit home and a part of me felt bad about it. But the way he shook his head as though he couldn't believe me, as though I was some lunatic... Least to say, his belittlement for me was getting tiresome.

Far beyond frustrated, I stomped irately across the school yard, back into the campus. I had a few minutes left to spare of lunchtime, and I knew just where to spend them.

The spray-paint-can dropped violently on Hatake Kakashi's desk, startling the grey-haired man. His sole eye tore away from his little favourite book to stare at the object I'd more or less thrown at him.

"It's Sasuke's." I asserted, "It was found in his locker in the changing rooms," _Near _his locker, but whatever. "He'll deny it, but, he had to have done it, right?" And I could think of a few reasons why—to be honest, I could probably conjure up a lot of them, actually; but only some effectively made sense. For one thing, he hated me. Period. But even that didn't wholly seem right. I knew Sasuke had problems: that was a given. Ever since his parents passed away, the twelve-year-old Uchiha had become a magnet for trouble and violence. Even now. And if one would look at it practically, my turning him in to the cops and ratting on him that day had only been a catalyst to the downhill wear-and-tear that was his life and future.

Sasuke could be working _for him_. For...for...I struggled to summon to mind a logical motive. _Revenge,_ I thought. Perhaps he still held a grudge, yet in the back of my mind I knew this hypothesis was only extending on something immaterial. Maybe he was working with him, another voice in my head insisted. Or _was _him. Merely thinking of the possibility had me shuddering. A small portion of my subconscious wanted not to believe it, holding on to the quickly fading memory of the last few days of armistice, while another only desired to finally be able to have a face to point the blame. The latter won out.

Kakashi merely watched as I poured out all my accusations on Sasuke. Then, when I finished, rather than nodding in agreement and launching on a rant on how he planned to punish the Uchiha, the man only he shook his head. To my surprise, he simply averred: "It wasn't Sasuke."

It took a moment for his words, though plain as they were, to settle in my baffled head, and another for me to form a coherent, though not very intelligent, response. "Why not?" I retorted, unwilling to give up. "The can was there. Just ask Sai. He found—"

"Yes, I know," Kakashi said, yet added assertively, "but it couldn't have been Sasuke." Cautiously, he picked up the can splayed over his cluttered desk and held it up to his eye level in examination. "This isn't the same can used for the tag outside."

"It's the exact same colour."

"This," he tilted the cylinder ever slightly between his toying fingers, "is a can of paint."

I blinked. "Exactly," the word rolled off my tongue, but I halted when I caught the heavy tone of significance that weighed the otherwise patent, seemingly meaningless statement. "What?"

Hatake Kakashi shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable, as he continued, "This isn't really a matter I can discuss to anyone..."

But I wanted –needed– to know. I wanted so much to make Sasuke responsible, wanted to believe that he truly was, yet it was as if the whole reason behind my being here was so that Kakashi would provide a sort of alibi for Sasuke, something, anything, to prove my assumptions wrong. I didn't want to believe he was a monster.

Or...was he? Could he ever be capable of—?

If my suspicions happened to be correct, then the person I've wanted so much to avoid had been the one I'd been spending time with all along.

"I hear confidential data all the time, from my father. I know how to keep my mouth shut."

His fingers lifted one by one and gently landed on the glassed tabletop with inaudible taps, a gesture obviously made to stall time. "I suppose," he began, "my own personal suspicion doesn't really make it classified..."

Patience simmered to nonexistent gas. "And? Just say it."

"I don't believe the ink used for the graffiti was paint."

A sharp, incredulous breath escaped my lips. "Okay, and what does that mean?" I asked, "Oil, maybe?"

"No. Thicker. Darker," he muttered, "I was thinking of requesting for a medical examiner to take a look at it..."

"What do you think it is?" I questioned warily, my own cloud of misgivings formulating in the back of my thoughts. Silence emanated from his end of the conversation. Then, recalling one of the writings on the wall, it occurred to me.

**Guess what kind of ink I'm using...**

Oh... _god._

Blood.

"'Four down', it said." Kakashi continued, most likely unaware that I understood, that I shared the same revelation as he did—but how would he even think that an average student like me had any idea on what was truly going on, much less have the full details. "The same number," he went on, talking to himself now, "of fatal accidents that have occurred in the city within the past few weeks. It can't be a coincidence. These suspected deaths must be connected, somehow."

"_Suspected_ death?" I echoed blankly, "Is that what they're calling it now?" Were the getting close? Maybe the cops have finally seen through the artificial veil of "accident" that the Rogue had smothered over each of his kill; maybe they knew; maybe they were one step closer to finding the Rogue and...

"No." Kakashi replied, and the false hope that swelled inside me just as immediately deflated. "_I'm_ calling it that." But warmer. At least someone was getting close to the actual truth, even if it was only a lone individual.

"Listen," Hatake started, but this time with a voice of a superior. As if the childish fragment in his personality had all of a sudden vanished, his face grew grave and his tone clearer, closely resembling a real mentor or a strict uncle. "Try not to let Sasuke get to you. He's been upset lately, and it's probably not good to be near him when he is. He can hurt people without realizing it."

"I thought he was different now," I blurted, the soft utterance meant more for my ears than those of Kakashi. "I was wrong."

The man in front of me was shaking his head, looking suddenly older behind his oak, glass-topped desk and the cluttered array of files and documents. "Sasuke told me about what happened. Four and a half years ago." Oh. "He _has _changed since then," he uttered, his only visible eye boring into mine. "I know that. That's why I don't believe he vandalized the wall. Someone else had, Sakura, someone _else_."

A sharp, sudden beep rang out of the school-wide speakers, and I jumped with surprise. Lunch was over, and I knew it was time for me to go. Looking back, I saw Kakashi staring at the spray-paint bottle that lay on his desk, the greys of his hair no longer silver, but appealingly white and jaded. My father had once told me that their line of work (the stress, the detailed analysis of just about everything, dealing with uncooperative people who've been in trouble with the law) rendered them to age more speedily. Now as I examined Kakashi's fatigued picture, a mere ghost of his usual animated persona, looking more like forty than someone in their late-twenties, I understood what he meant.

I imagined he was worried about the case, the odd, unexplainable killings that appeared to be accidental but that he felt were strongly otherwise, and the murder-rate that seemed to be increasing hazardously and mysteriously in the city at such close intervals. Here I was, standing in his office, with all the answers that Kakashi needed, but I couldn't bring myself to speak them aloud. I had promised to silence and feared of the consequence that would come if I did not maintain that vow.

As I turned to take my leave, I found myself face to face with a stranger, a girl reflecting off the glass on Kakashi's door. Hair in disarray, skin paled from constant anxiety, this aged stranger was staring right back at me, her green eyes dulled with bags and shadows underneath them. It was a girl jaded and exhausted the world of blood and death and fear she had been pushed into, disintegrated to a being of guilt that carried on her shoulders the deaths of those she'd doomed.

Kin, the Rogue's first kill. Her first kill.

Dosu.

Moegi, the little girl who was more than innocent, who had the most number of years she hadn't yet lived taken from her because that ghost of a person in the glass. The youngest victim.

And now, Karin—with whom Sasuke was closest to and cared more about than I've seen him with anyone else. And she—that girl in the glass—had taken her away. It didn't matter how indirectly.

The responsibility of it all weighed on her curved, fragile shoulders, with bones frail and at the brink of breaking from the overwhelming burden, yet looking down, I saw her lips pressed into a tight, firm line.

She wanted to turn back around and let Kakashi in on what was really going on, to tell anyone anything in order to lift off even the slightest bit of guilt and burden. But out of fear for more her safety than anyone else's, I watched helplessly as her lips remained sealed. That girl, staring back at me in the faded glass...

She was me.

The Rogue had zipped my mouth and digested the key, and I was powerless. There was no other sound I could make except of these muffled cries in my head...these secret, silent screams that no one would ever hear.

My lips were stitched together.

_He_ was the embroiderer.

Fear was the thread.

* * *

"You pissed off Sasuke pretty good back there."

I circled, only to find Suigetsu leaning beside my locker with a face of amusement. A darker cloud passed over my already gloomy mood. I couldn't deal with anyone else right now—I only wanted to get home with the least amount of interaction from others. Sadly, it seemed I wasn't going to get my way.

My face scrunched in uncertainty. "What are you doing here?" I asked, staring at him with caution as I wondered why he was even here—as in, here talking to _me. _Aside from the casual side-comments, Suigetsu and I have never really engaged in an actual conversation. Additionally, I'd just seen him back in KSS earlier during lunch; seeing him here after school was certainly unexpected.

"I was just on my way to see my supervisor. Uh, Hatake." He explained, but wasted not another second on minute details as he turned back onto the initial subject. "So you think Sasuke did it?"

"I know he did," I answered, less certain than how I outwardly sounded.

"Really?" he replied, sounding the least bit convinced. "Sasuke told me what happened between the two of you, back when you guys were like, twelve or something."

Oh great. Tell the whole world, why don't you?

"He said that you were this rich good-girl who snubbed everyone, a real drama queen."

I flinched, slamming a three-inch, one-tonne textbook into the metal shelves of my locker. "Typical he'd say that."

Periwinkle strands shook and fell over his eyes as he whipped his head to and fro. "He's a good guy, you know?" No, I didn't know. But I couldn't say that, of course; I didn't think I wanted to, not in front of any of his friends at least. They seemed to have a high level of respect for him, one which I did not understand the reason behind. It was a bond rooted beyond my comprehension. "He screwed up a couple times, but he's straightening up. We all are. Before you start hating him again, I think you should know he was being an asshole after the two of you fought."

I really didn't need to deal with this right now. The reminder of both the Rogue and the lives ended because of me, because of my fear, from my dropping by Kakashi's office earlier had rattled my bones and drained my body of energy. I hadn't enough strength to continue this conversation. "That's nice to know," I said dismissively.

"No, you don't get it. Whatever the heck it is you guys fought about, it got to him. Sasuke wouldn't have moped around if he didn't care." Then, shrugging his shoulders, before I could respond—or even react—he began to walk away.

"Just thought you should know," he called over his shoulder.

Befuddled and a tad disturbed, I quickly shut my locker and strode towards the opposite direction.

As I walked out of the campus, I tried to visualize Sasuke actually saddened by our dispute—I couldn't imagine it. I expected him to have remained absolutely unaffected; I thought he'd easily forget about it because, frankly, I didn't think he cared all that much about whether he and I were on okay terms or not.

The words of the periwinkle-haired boy followed me all the way home, looming just above the heavy feeling in my chest that wouldn't go away. I stepped into the front room of the house, uncaringly shaking off my shoes and shrugging out of my jacket. Stillness and the lack of company filled the atmosphere. Mom and Dad, who were supposedly "away for the weekend", were gone longer. I figured that much. Ignoring the abyss of absence that welcomed me, I made a quick, habitual trip to the kitchen for a snack, afterwards trotting up the staircase to my room.

Just as I was shutting the door, the telephone situated atop the bedside table rang.

"Missed you at lunch today!" Ino's voice exploded from the receiver. A sigh slipped past my lips at the same time as a hundred possible excuses occurred in my head about why I didn't feel like talking at the moment. I wanted to crawl into a ball beneath the warmth of blankets and sleep.

But I knew guilt was one condition I could never simple sleep off.

"Why weren't you answering your phone?" Ino prattled, "And where did you go?"

"Konoha Secondary School." I told her straightforwardly, knowing it was the fastest way to get rid of her oncoming inquiries.

"The public school beside the community center? Um, may I ask _why_?"

"Sasuke goes there."

"_That _explains a lot." She teased, and I could almost hear her grin on the other line, "Like, really."

Raising my hand, I pressed two finger tips on my forehead in attempt to dissipate the aching. "It's not like that. It wasn't even civil. We weren't talking, we were yelling."

"So what?" Ino retorted, "I bet you and Sasuke will make up tomorrow."

"I doubt that," I muttered.

"You like him."

Startled, my massaging fingers paused, hovering immobile by my temples. "I don't."

"That wasn't a question, idiot."

"Ino," I expressed, exasperated, "I can't do this right now—"

"I _knew _it was gonna happen!" she exclaimed just as enthusiastically as Archimedes screamed _Eureka!, _as though she'd discovered the answers to a mind-boggling conundrum. "He's hot. And dark, definitely dark. What'll your parents say when they find out you're with a bad boy?"

"I'm not _with _him." I replied, articulating each and every syllable, the sound of aggravation dripping from each word. "That word will never exist between me and Sasuke."

"He takes you _out_ to places, doesn't he?"

"We _go_ to places." I rephrased, "That's different. He's different, not like the ordinary guys in our class. He's... he's done things," I had to force the words out of my lips, as though hesitancy and doubt refused to let me verbalize these accusations. "In the past. Unforgivable things."

A sigh emitted from her end of the phone line. "I'd never imagined you as a hater, Sakura, but that's what you're being right now. You should give him a chance."

I did. But now here he was, disappointing me. "What if he's not the person I thought he was?"

"What if he turns out to be someone better?" She replied softly but pointedly, her voice now not of a gossiper but a friend, a scolding but nevertheless sensible friend. "Ever thought of that?" I didn't respond. "Second chances, Sakura," Ino gently chided, "everybody deserves it. You can't judge him for the things he'd screwed up nearly five years ago."

A second chance. In the back of my mind, I wondered just how many second chances had already been given to Sasuke, and just how much of them he'd by now put to waste. Just how many second chances can one give?

"So anyway, you missed so much today. Lee was being such a retard again..."

From our distasteful first meeting years ago, I'd built this destructive image of Sasuke in my head, and every little fault of his appeared magnified through my eyes. I found it hard to believe that a person like him could have sincerely changed for the better, and I maintained –despite other people's opinion– that he was still the same guy he was before, with the same callous personality and an intolerable attitude. But somehow, beneath my doubts towards him and all relentless blame, though I would never admit it out loud, I wanted him to prove me wrong.

"...and we were all like, what the heck? So Hinata..."

Just then I realized the hypocrisy of my own accusations towards the dark-haired Uchiha. Here I was blaming him when I was just as much deserving of the blame as he was. Only that was different—I instantly backpedalled, refusing to believe this as valid. Sasuke had done so many things, paralyzing that kid among them, that were of his own choice; I didn't have a choice in my circumstance.

That's different, I kept insisting. It's different.

The clock ticked seconds to minute to hours as I pondered over what to do, tuning out Ino's indefatigable prattle. There were a lot of things I didn't understand at the moment, and one of them was Sasuke.

"So anyway, about our case study in Bio..."

Bio? "Case study?" I repeated, snapping out of my thoughts. "We have a case study?" I'd forgotten about it. As a matter of fact, I'd forgotten about homework all in all. I turned my head to the side, only to find that my school bag wasn't in its customary location by the doorstep. Groaning, I got up off the bed and made my way down to the kitchen.

I scanned the area and saw that the counters were empty. Ambling towards the living room, the telephone still pinned between my left ear and shoulder, my gaze swept through the space. My bag wasn't there either. Come to think of it, I didn't remember ever having it as I walked home from school; probably too preoccupied with my deliberations, I didn't remember much about the whole walk, period.

"Crap." I hissed. How could I have not noticed I was empty handed, save for my jacket, throughout the entire three-blocks-worth of walk home?

"What?" replied Ino.

"I left my bag in school. And everything that's inside."

"That would be a problem," Ino taunted, "Just go back. Like, to the Academy, I mean. Where did you leave it?"

"I don't know." I answered, sincerely clueless. I'd been too lost elsewhere, juggling with the shadow of doubt and guilt and Suigetsu's words to have realized that I hadn't anything with me...and I never even noticed until right this moment. "Jeez, my wallet's in there."

"No one would steal it." She comforted, "Just go back for it. The school never closes." That was indeed true. Teachers stayed late all the time, plus custodians, who usually cleaned up the Academy overnight. Tilting my head to the right, I took a momentary look out the window. My gaze met the quickly dimming skies. Light blue meshed into a dark opaque as the sun slowly disappeared, giving way to the impending night. The streetlights were already on.

"It's getting dark." I remarked. On the button, a tiny bell emitted from the floor above, capturing my attention away from the glass. My eyes flicked towards the still staircase.

"Well, you better hurry."

Another bell. A frown fell on my face. "Ino? I'll call you back."

"Kay, I'll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams! I know they'll be about Sasuke." With a laugh, the phone clicked and the line ended. Warily, I headed up the stairs.

Crossing the threshold, I immediately caught sight of the quadrangular window that repeatedly flashed in orange on my desktop. I knew this scene all too well, knew what was about to happen next, and moreover, I knew that nothing good was going to come out of the awaiting episode. Swallowing my fear, I walked over to the computer.

**Rogue: Karin was... exhilarating. I enjoyed killing her off. Thank you for that.**

**lilpinkchiq: You sadistic bastard. What did you do to her? **

**Rogue: Isn't it obvious? **

**Rogue: I'm sure you know it was no kitchen accident. I scorched her. Inch... by inch...**

**Rogue: The sight of her writhing in pain... yelling out for mercy... the rush of adrenaline was indescribable. I love it; don't you? The ecstasy of dying. The control over life and death.**

I gasped.

**Rogue: You know another thing I love? You. You're helplessness. You're frailty. It's entertaining, really. Like watching an ant burn through a magnifying glass.**

**Rogue: I can only imagine, Sakura, how utterly thrilling your death will be for me. I want to hear you scream.**

My body froze to ice.

**Rogue: But we'll save that for another day. Right now, whose turn is it to die?**

**Rogue: Tell me, Sakura, whose turn is it to scream?**

Unable to respond, I sat there like statue of stone with a vacant stare upon the screen. I was too afraid to respond, too shaken up to conjure the proper thing to say and do. The want inside me that told my body to move, to do something right for once instead of being so pathetic, wasn't enough to shake me out of my terrorized abstraction.

**Rogue: Answer.**

Another instant message popped up after the long while of silence.

**Rogue: No? Fine. I'll pick out a kill of my own choice.**

**Rogue: How about that boy you were speaking to, earlier? You seemed a little disturbed after your talk. Did he upset you? How about we make him pay?**

_Who's he talking about_? I panicked.

**lilpinkchiq: What boy?**

_Sasuke?_

_**Rogue has logged off.**_

On the outside, I remained stationary; none of my limbs seemed capable of any movement, my face inept of any expression. Tears blurred the corners of my sight, but they never fell. On the outside, I was granite.

Inwardly however, I was breaking, eroding. Inside, I was shrieking my head off in hopes that by some weird miracle, someone would hear my psychological cries for help.

I wanted to believe that this was only part of a very long nightmare. A little part of me hoped that it wouldn't happen. That he wouldn't do anything. But that was only a part. The rest of me, the majority, knew better.

Someone was going die tonight.

* * *

_**Hozuki Suigetsu**_

His brow rose automatically at the sight of Uchiha walking into the kitchen, his head bowed and eyes lowered to the ground. In cross, heavy movements, he slammed the refrigerator open and from inside it, grabbed a can of root beer. With a flick of his thumb, the Uchiha took a swig of the carbonated drink.

"What with _you_?" Shikamaru chided, as he, too, observed the disconcerted lad. In fact, every one of them in the room had fallen silent upon the prodigy's arrival, all to stare at the Uchiha's odd actions.

"Fuck you." Sasuke barked, throwing out the now-empty soda-can before grabbing a new one. The boy-genius merely rolled his eyes. Suigetsu felt sorry for Nara, honestly; the brunette had to put with up Sasuke's shit for the most part of everyday, more than their entire share combined. Well, _he_ had to tolerate Jugo, which the madman being his roommate and all, but while the guy was both strange and insane (not to mention, the mental instability) it had to be better than rooming with Sasuke.

"Did you and Sakura break up?" Suigetsu gibed, just for fun, just to piss off the already grumpy Uchiha. He didn't need Sasuke's reply to know the answer, though; they'd all seen and watched the two's argument from afar. They were out of audible range, but by the way Sasuke stalked back to their table and more or less slammed everything he could get his hands on, it was logical to come to the conclusion that Uchiha and the girl were no longer on speaking terms.

Sasuke did not reply. "So what exactly happened?" he tried again, grinning. Shikamaru and Neji sat on dining table, and between them, a game of Shogi was set up. Shino lingered by the counter, toying between his fingers a cockroach he'd managed to attract (Suigetsu felt the urge to squirm away—freaking Aburame was seriously one weird dude.)

Cowards, he thought. He was the only one in this room who actually had the guts to ask. They all faked an uninterested act, but he knew they all wanted to hear the Uchiha's story. "Today, I mean. Between you and Sakura."

"Nothing. She's just being a brat again."

"Can you blame her?" Neji muttered.

"This is not my fault," Sasuke growled defensively, "_She_ messed this up. Man, I don't need this shit, not right now, not after... after Karin..."

"So?" Suigetsu asked, sparing Uchiha from having to complete that sentence. At the one-syllabic, rhetorical question, the Uchiha turned to look at him with an irritated stare.

"So _what_?"

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know." Sasuke blurted with frustration. "Sulk?"

"Pathetic." Shikamaru whispered from the side, shaking his head.

"I saw her today when I dropped by to talk to Kakashi." Suigetsu remarked in an untailored manner.

"I don't care."

"We talked for a bit."

That caught Sasuke's attention. Suigetsu smirked and purposely prolonged the pause. "...And?" the Uchiha prompted with annoyance.

"And what?" he countered, secretly enjoying himself.

"What did she say?" Sasuke inquired impatiently.

Grinning, he commented, "So much for not caring, huh?"

The boy opposite of him twitched, "Fuck you, Hozuki."

"Whoa, what's up?" Kiba piped up, suddenly appearing by the doorway. He took in the Uchiha's defeated posture and blinked.

"Sasuke's whipped." Suigetsu enlightened. In an instant, a pointed glare was thrown at his direction. He rolled his eyes, supposing that that was enough taunting for today. There were short limits to Sasuke's patience, and he knew that if he didn't shut up soon, he'd end up sleeping in the hospital tonight; or worse, if he just happened to bruise the Uchiha's ego a tad too far, the _cemetery_.

"Well, I'm out. Later." Getting up from his seat, he ambled out of the kitchen.

A yawn escaped from his lips. Out of habit, he took a quick look at the round wall clock that hung just by shelves: only a half past eight. He had at least two hours left before curfew. Glancing left and right, up and down the hallway, he made sure no one was around before slipping out the back door.

The cold, bitter wind greeted him. He loitered for a minute, listening for anyone who might be within the vicinity, before crossing the backyard and out onto the sidewalk. From his pockets, he extracted a small cylindrical roll. Observing it between his fingers, the urge to grab the nearest lighter became almost too overpowering. He remained stationary, though, in consideration.

At the same moment, Sasuke emerged, he on the other hand coming out from the front door. In the Uchiha's hand was a plastic bag, and in it Suigetsu indentified a pair of rubber gloves, a brush, and some kind of blue liquid in a bottle—he assumed it was soap. "Heading out?" he asked and gestured to the bag, wrapping his hand around the tiny white object to hide it away from sight.

The other boy nodded, "Gotta clean up that wall back in the Academy."

"Sasuke," Suigetsu called seriously, all the repartee pushed aside for now. The embarrassment of guilt washed over him as he slowly began, "About the spray-paint bottle..."

"Don't do it again." Uchiha barked, interrupting him. "It's fine. Just don't fucking do it again."

"I didn't think you'd take the blame...I mean there were tags all over that factory by the Central Mall, Sasuke, I didn't think it mattered. I was just fooling around..."

"I said it was fine," the graver of the two asserted. "And besides, this isn't just about the can. Someone else tagged the Academy, and since I wasn't around at the same time, the faculty thinks _I'm_ responsible. Guess they couldn't find anyone else more worthy of the blame."

"You should've told Kakashi. He'd believe you."

"He does." Sasuke replied, "But the school board's got his hands tied."

There was nothing he could think of to say that would make things right, or better. Instead, his fingers pinched tighter the white roll inside the pocket of his sweatshirt, silently releasing the guilt he felt even though the Uchiha said it was fine. How could he have known Sasuke was going to find the can? What if it had been Kakashi who'd found it?

The urge to relive his old habits had suddenly become so overwhelming the other day, as he strolled about the center square during his free time, and he remembered the feeling of painting an entire wall with his own signature for everyone else to see, no matter that it was illegal. But that was a long time ago. What the hell was he thinking now?

He hadn't been thinking, period. At the time, he didn't think it was such a big deal. The tag seemed unnoticeable and insignificant among the dozens of other gang names and words written on the wall of that old carpet factory.

"Well, later." Sasuke bid and turned around, only to halt in mid-step. "Oh, and Suigetsu?" He called, his neck straining to glance at Suigetsu over his shoulder.

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"Get rid of it," was the Uchiha's stern order, barked with the voice of an alpha dog.

Suigetsu felt his cheeks warming up. He unclenched his fist, letting the cigarette drop to the pavement. He muttered, "Sorry." With a nod, Sasuke walked the other direction. Soon the sidewalk returned to its regular vacancy. Suigetsu sighed. Without another glance at the cigarette on the ground (fearing that he might not be able to control himself if he did look) he sauntered forward, strolling down the isolated pathway behind the common house.

Then, suddenly, a sound—a faint, nearly inaudible footstep right behind him. Before he knew it, a firm grip clamped onto his shoulder and arm, shoving his whole being into the nearest alley, narrow, dark and filled with filth. He staggered forward, but quickly regained his footing. Puzzled and now completely pissed off, he spun around angrily and started into pitch black eyes.

"What the—!"

A sharp, cutting pain pierced into his stomach. He doubled over, falling to his knees. His eyes shut as another knife-life pain shot through his body. Suddenly, his chest was hurting like hell, then his gut, his ribs, his back, his limbs... until ultimately the stabbing sensations merged altogether into numbness, until he could no longer feel... no longer move...

...No longer breathe.

* * *

_Announcement: **HIATUS**! I'm taking a break from writing. Just for like, a year and a half, maybe two years..._

_...kidding! Ahahaha Oh my, that was evil. Sorry. lol. The hiatus is true, but only for the month of June. School's nearly over && we all know what that means... CRUNCH TIME! The dreaded time at end of the year when teachers realize we only have 14 schooldays left &suddenly say: "Here's another two chapters I forgot to teach you!" Ugh._

_(Ya'll know what I'm talking about. Crunch Time's worldwide. lol)_

_Joking aside, I truly am sorry, especially for throwing that memo right after leaving you with a cliff-hanger. x] Feel free to rant your OMG-SHE-DID-NOT-JUST-DO-THAT frustrations in your review! lol (& rest assured, I will resume the fic by early July. I promised to complete it, and I will. =) I owe you that much for all the encouragement & support. Thank You!)_

_Now, for the time being, please **Read & Review (and Thank You)**!  
__Keelah_


	35. Haunting Eyes

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_The only thing more terrifying that being alone,_

_...is discovering that you are not._

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY FOUR  
**__**Haunting Eyes**_

After several minutes of drowning in self-reproach, I finally snapped out of it. A glimpse of the night, by now a dark shade of ultramarine, adequately pushed me off my feet. I had to get going if I was to go forth and back the Academy before it became too dark. I tried, as I ran out the front door, not to think of the earlier online conversation—which was, parenthetically, still fresh and raw in my mind.

As expected, the Academy was empty. Not a vehicle was in sight in the parking lot, not a lit window on any of the buildings, save for the soft fluorescence that came from the vestibule. Hugging my arms to shield away from the cold, I jogged across the courtyard.

An indefinite clatter caused me to halt on my tracks, and I turned to the area where the noise derived from—near one of the south buildings, around the side of the school just off where I couldn't see. I hesitated, but upon hearing the soft racket once more, I went on and trotted for the side of the Socials wing. I came around the corner, and crouched down on the ground with pale blue rubber gloves, was Sasuke. He had in one hand a large yellow sponge, and on the other, a bucket full of suds.

When Sasuke saw me, he sprung to his feet. "Sakura."

I was as surprised to see him as he was to see me.

"Why are you here?" I blurted.

"Does it matter?" My eyes narrowed in slits at his aloof response—not that I needed it to know anyway. My eyes travelled from the brush in his hand, and then to the wall adjacent to him. Half the messages were gone. Turning back, I found his eyes already locked in mine.

"You gave the can to Kakashi." He said assertively, stating more than asking. Polar coldness was in his eyes, and I responded by giving no response. "It wasn't mine, Sakura."

"I'm gonna go."

"Damn it, are you listening to me? It wasn't mine. It was..." he huffed, seemingly scolding himself for saying aloud what he was about to reveal: "It was Suigetsu. He tagged some factory downtown, and I found the can in his bag. I was going to get rid of it after training the dogs, but it was gone when I got back."

Saying nothing, I maintained a blank facade over my expression to hide the conflicting thoughts in my head. I didn't know what to think, what to believe. "You can't tell Kakashi," Sasuke warned me, "If he finds out, Suigetsu's kicked out of the program. This is the final chance we get, Sakura."

"Well, maybe he shouldn't have screwed up."

He shook his head, "Do you even _have_ a heart?" I glared at him, visual daggers which I imagined cutting through his skull. "Never mind, don't answer that. Why are _you_ here?"

Unconsciously, I crossed my arms over my chest. "I left my bag," I answered abruptly. "And shouldn't there be someone supervising you?"

"Yeah, Hatake, but he's at the station. He let me go on my own. He trusts me." Sasuke said, though his eyes added, _unlike you._ I looked at him with a challenging stare. He shook his head, annoyed. "This is messed up. Why are we even talking?"

Glaring, I snapped, "Good question," and walked off.

Something behind me clanked, a few shuffling noises, and just as I approached the entrance of the Academy, Sasuke appeared beside me. "Where are you going?" I asked as he followed me inside, bewildered for the second time that evening.

"I thought we were going to get your bag."

"_We_?" I echoed.

"I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

"You wanna go in there by yourself?" He jerked his head to the side, pointing out the grand hallway. It was bright where we currently stood, but the luminosity of the two bulbs in the lobby was barely enough to light up the rest of the corridor. Down the far end of the hall, darkness reigned like an awaiting black-hole.

"Why would I be afraid?" I countered.

Sasuke sensed the bluff with ease. Nonetheless, he settled himself against the wall by the doorframe. "Suit yourself." He said, yet is stubborn pose told me he wasn't going anywhere. Frustrated, I left behind the intractable Uchiha.

Ambling down the unlit corridor, I was instantly reminded of just how creepy schools were at night. Due to the lack of student chatterboxes, the mixed noise of laughter and complaints on homework, and from the absence of traffic rush, the place seemed so empty now, so dead. The halls were only lit enough to illuminate the path before me, but everything else that surrounded was enveloped in shadows.

Though I was as good as blindfolded, after a few corners and a stairway I arrived at my locker without too much difficulty. I felt the single-dial padlock with my fingertips and, relying only on memory, turned the knob accordingly. The locker's door opened and, reaching inside, I seized the bulky book bag by the strap and hung it loosely over my shoulder. Mission: complete.

I turned a sharp one-eighty, only to have my first step immobilized as something in the darkness caught my eye. The corridor before me resembled a long, unending tunnel of closed doors leading to the unknown—except one. Everything was at a standstill, lifelessly quiet, all excepting the partly open door that swung and creaked softly.

I noticed the pale gold plate embedded on the top corner—a maintenance closet, it stated. Just as my hand reached out for the silvery handle, hesitation befell upon me. I drew my hand back.

The closet door moved to and fro as if just recently left open—which was odd, as I'd seen no one around earlier. As far as I knew, apart from Sasuke who lingered on the floor below (unless he left, which I assumed he already had, having no unfeigned reason to stay, anyway) I was alone. Now, however, I wasn't so sure anymore.

Gulping, I turned to the closet once again; from the slit of the partly ajar door, darkness loomed invitingly. Without my premeditated consent, my hand grabbed the knob and pulled.

Blackness came as a greeting. I felt for the toggle light-switch and flicked it open. Light instantly filled the small space and pierced my eyes, leaving me more unsighted than I already was to begin with. I strained to see through the brightness as my iris slowly retracted to the excessive light, until the white blur around me began to mould in actual shapes I could decipher.

I stiffened.

Photographs, dozens and dozens of them, covered the walls of the small closet. As my gaze travelled from one snapshot to another, my skin prickled, and my breathing shortened in rapid, struggled puffs. All prints featured one individual, a girl whose eyes never quite met the camera.

That girl was me.

Me, walking down the hallway. Me, crossing the lane. Me by my locker, eating at the cafeteria, in the library, at the park, walking home, in front of a computer, doing homework... me, me and me.

It was like staring at a storyboard of my everyday life.

In every one of the pictures, my eyes were drifted in the other direction, unaware of the pictographic mechanism focused solely on my being, oblivious to the spectator that watched vigilantly through the lenses.

The fact that the Rogue knew who I was, and could see me, that much I'd known. But looking at these stolen snapshots, I realized that he'd been doing more than just watching. He monitored. He examined. Even in the times I thought I was alone, I never actually was. Around the corner, behind the trees, amongst the crowd or camouflaged in the shadows, a pair of eyes stalked, haunting me, capturing my every move frame by frame.

Something became crystal clear at that moment. As in all of the photographs, this time was no exception. As in all of the photographs, I was not alone this very second.

Shaking, I took a step back, and the natural flight reaction kicked in. Sweat beading on the nape of my neck, legs turning onto goo, I used what was left of my courage to whirl around and dart down the hallway. Just as I came around the corner, I slammed into something solid; before I caught on to what was happening, a firm grip landed on my arms, restraining me, crushing me. I struggled free, gasping.

"Whoa," It was Sasuke. Seeing his face of surprise, hearing his voice of concern, I could have fainted from relief. I stopped my futile resisting and collapsed into his shielding hold. "Slow down."

I exhaled, incredulous, "I thought you left."

"You took a long time, so I followed you, and—" his words died away as he examined my frazzled exterior. "You're trembling."

I shook my head. His sudden appearance, though it had outwardly soothed me, was not enough to fully pacify the mental strain in my head. "Never mind that. Let's just..." Something on the floor glinted and caught my eye. My face scrunched in wonder, only now noticing the markings, a shapeless, murky line, on the floor that I had completely missed earlier on. Moving around the Uchiha, I stepped to the fore.

A voice called out behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to turn around. As if in a trance, I glided onward. Dread sparked within me, and it only swelled larger as I followed the trail that lead me further into the corridor. The crimson substance turned from measly smears to splatters, to splotches, and ultimately to a puddle that pooled around the bottom of a doorway. I stopped.

Just what was on the other side of that door was something I did not fancy finding out. Nonetheless, with my body acting purely on its own irrational sense, heart racing, I reached out and twisted the doorknob.

There was no need for light for me to see just what it was that lay in a lifeless heap on the floor beside my feet. A carcass. Deep, large gashes decorated every inch of the motionless body, nauseating cuts out of which blood poured abundantly. The only color that brought life in the dead picture was the light, periwinkle locks that contrasted against the dark red and black backdrop.

Suigetsu.

And the gooey solution covering the entire space—the walls, the ceiling and the floors—it was his bloodshed, slick and dripping from every exposed surface.

Gasping, I backed away, staggering on my feet as my legs turned wobbly. I wheezed, finding it suddenly difficult to inhale, and my heart thudded faster and faster until I felt its pulse at the bottom of my throat, until its beating was all that thumped in my eardrums. I couldn't move. I couldn't even blink. My eyes were glued upon the ghastly scene splayed out before me, and I couldn't look away.

And then, darkness.

* * *

A hand gently landed over my eyes and pulled me away, followed by a stern command in the form of a soft whisper in my ear, "Don't look." Stubborn as I was however, I shook off the hand covering my eyes and looked up.

Sasuke stared ahead, past my shoulder, at his now deceased friend. A look of terror and disbelief flooded his facade, but he handled the shock much better than I had done. His posture, though stiff, was stable—unlike mine. I felt myself quivering as a thousand sentiments pounded through me at once. I was horrified, saddened, guilty, terrified, confused, lost, scared and, as my eyes travelled down to the dark puddle on the ground, as the sickening picture of a bloodied Suigetsu flashed in my mind, traumatized.

"Phone." Sasuke whispered, finally recomposing himself, "We—we need to call the cops. Or an ambulance. Now, right now."

Seeing the thick, murky fluids that pooled around our feet, the fact struck me.

I currently stood the midst of a pool of blood.

"...We need to call. Phone—do you have a phone with you?"

It was one thing to see gory, detailed snapshots of mangled corpses, worse but somewhat similar to watching a grotesque horror film. It was completely another thing, however, to see someone dead and bleeding right before one's very eyes.

"Sakura?" It was different, because it was so undeniably, inescapably real. "Sakura, breathe."

It was only upon hearing Sasuke's panicked instruction that I realized I was hyperventilating. My lips were gaped open breathlessly like a fish off the water, gagging for oxygen yet none came into my lungs.

"—I can't..." I managed to croak out, my vision quickly diminishing.

"Just calm down." He ordered, holding my face delicately between his two hands. "Breathe. Calm down." His consolations were in vain. I maintained on heaving as everything around me distorted in one vanishing haze. "You stupid girl," Sasuke groaned, "Don't faint on me now. Sakura, snap out of it!"

With fear and anxiety pressing in on me, forcing the consciousness off my body, I continued to fall. _"Damn it"_ were the last words I heard Sasuke mutter under his breath as he caught me before I hit the ground, as everything else faded to black.

* * *

A light smack landed on the side of my face. "Hey." More featherlike slaps. "Wake up."

I shut my eyes tighter, but the distracting beams of blue and red still seeped through the closed lids, and soon consciousness surfaced above the dormant nothingness. I blinked my eyes open and was surprised to find Uchiha Sasuke's face hovering over mine. "Hey." He said again.

As I sat up groaning, a wave of vertigo instantly struck me. I reached out to touch my temples, massaging it lightly. "Lightheaded?" Light? My head felt heavier than a tonne of cement.

"What happened?" I muttered.

"You blacked out."

"Then what?"

"Then I called nine-one-one."

My eyes shot open. I registered the state of my current surroundings, the noises reaching my ears. It was a miracle how I'd even overlooked the commotion. Three police cars were parked at the very front of the school's courtyard, and the place dotted with uniformed me; and the Academy's main building, previously unlit the last time I'd seen it, was now alive as it would be if it were morning. Red and blue lights from beacons and light bars lit up the entire area, while an ambulance was parked on the far side of the lot. As my gaze swept over the scene, it landed eventually on the boy seated next to me. He was leaning against a vehicle's door of some sort, and then I noticed: we were just at the back of another opened ambulance—the thought freaked me out just a little.

"You're fine." Sasuke spoke up again, sensing the sudden gravity in my expression, ". You're not hurt."

I looked down on my lap, finally recalling the night's earlier episode, its screenshots flashing through my brain speedily and unclearly—it was enough, however, to remind me of everything. "Suigetsu..." I whispered, "Is he...?"

"Dead." was the monotonous response. I glanced at Sasuke; the front he put up was glazed in an unreadable expression of frozen granite.

My mouth opened to speak, but was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice. "_Alright_," I turned and I found a woman with a badge grinning snidely at us as she approached, her short, thorny ponytail sticking out in all directions at the back of her head. A paramedic followed shortly behind. "I see you're awake." The woman remarked, her gaze scrutinizing over me. I looked away uncomfortably.

"No shit, Mitarashi." said Sasuke in a voice of scorn.

The woman—Mitarashi, her name was—heaved a sigh of exasperation, "Rude as always, Sasuke." The said boy scowled, only further proving the statement true. "I'm Anko." She introduced, turning her attention back to me. "Sakura, right?" I nodded wordlessly. "Been a long night for you both. Let's get you kids home. First though," her eyes landed on me. "Let's make sure you don't have any concussion. Mitsu?"

After a quick examination by the paramedic, a flash of light in both my eyes, keeping my gaze as her finger moved left and right, I was marked good-to-go and soon found myself sitting in the backseat of a police car.

Sasuke was beside me, scooted as far from me as the small space would allow. He was much quieter during the ride home than he'd been earlier tonight; his eyes were far-flung, aloof, most likely brooding over his lost friend. I looked away and leaned against the window to my right, blankly watching the trees and streetlights whip past.

My mind travelled back to Suigetsu—he was a good guy. He didn't deserve to die. He'd been part of the treatment program like Sasuke was; which must've meant he wanted to straighten up his life again; he didn't deserve it to be ended so quickly. His wounds I knew were inflicted by none other than a blade—speared over and over again. I shuddered, unable to even imagine the pain of being pierced by a cutting edge repetitively. He didn't deserve to die, I thought again.

For the fifth time, to the fifth person, I expressed my futile, far-too-late contrition. _I'm sorry. _

And the Academy; the police officers must have been tearing it apart in two by now. I wondered if they'd already discovered the river worth of blood on the second floor, or whether they'd already seen the picture-filled closet... If they had, I should have at least heard something about it by now, if not been assailed by a rain of inquiries. The photographs, the thought of an unknown spectator capturing my every move through the lens, still unnerved me a great deal. Then, something occurred to me. I frowned. "Sasuke?"

"What?" he replied abruptly.

"Where's your camera?"

The question visibly caught him off-guard. "My camera?"

"Yeah, the one you showed me." _The one you always_ _use, _I added in my head.

""It's… in my room?" I could tell from the corner of my eye that he was gazing at me now, with a look of uncertainty. "Why?" he asked.

"Nothing." I dismissed, though the matter was not entirely set aside in my brain. Sasuke opened his mouth to speak, but I gave him no chance, knowing I wouldn't be able to come up with an explanation for the sudden query involving his camera. "You can pull up right here." I said to Anko, who stopped the car by the curb in front of my house. Hurriedly, I grabbed my bag and reached for the door. A second after I stepped out, Sasuke followed suit behind me.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Anko scolded from the driver's seat of the police car, eyeing the Uchiha through the rolled down window. My eyes shifted to the boy standing next to me, and the same question crossed my mind. "I'm supposed to drive you straight to the station, where you are to report to Kakashi immediately. Don't even try to get out of it, Uchiha. Get back in."

The car door was slammed purposely and definitely. "No, thanks." Sasuke's assertion only earned a frustrated groan from the raven-haired woman. "I'll drop by the station later. You go ahead."

"Alright, fine." She barked, starting the engine once again. "But it was your idea, not mine. If Kakashi gets mad: your fault. Take care, Sakura." After thanking her, Anko drove off.

"You didn't have to do that." I told Sasuke as I made my way up the porch. He gave an unresponsive shrug. Opening the door, I paused midway through and glanced back unsurely at Sasuke. "Are you coming in? It's, uh, freezing out here."

A smirk cracked in the edge of his lips—the teasing, however, did not reach the distant onyx that was his orbs. "I thought you said I was _cold-blooded_?" he mimicked. Sending a final glare, I grabbed the door and was about to slam it in his face when an arm abruptly blocked the frame. "Calm down," he said, prying the door open, "I was kidding."

"I thought you were mad at me." I said.

"I still am," He replied. "Thought _you _were mad at _me_?"

"Who says I'm not?" We stared down at each other for another moment, though afterwards, I found myself stepping aside to let him in. He entered without a trace of hesitation, as though he would've walked in anyway even if I hadn't invited him—arrogant jerk.

An empty space and silence welcomed us, and seeing the silhouettes and darkened corners that lurked about unseen, I was glad I'd invited Sasuke in. After flicking on the light switch, I warily scanned the front room. Sasuke flopped down on one of the sofas. He said not a word and remained stationary, gazing ahead of him without a sound. I looked away and went in the kitchen. "I'm sorry about Suigetsu."

"Why? You didn't kill him." I flinched, knowing his words weren't true.

"Um, I would have thought they'd ask me questions." I said, opening the refrigerator.

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, "They already questioned me like I was a suspect. I don't think they need to drill you in any more."

I frowned, glancing at him. "What do you mean?"

He looked up and met my eyes. "Sakura, when the cops came, I had you unconscious in my arms and a dead body ten feet away. Get the picture?" Oh.

Suddenly, I sensed something, and my gaze instinctively flicked to the window above the counter.

"I had to call Kakashi and let him talk them out of taking me in for the night."

I squinted, trying to make out the shapes that shifted outside, though the best I could decipher were wind-tossed branches and leaves. There was nothing there in particular, but I knew there _had_ been. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

"I... sort of missed a lot, huh?" I replied half-heartedly as I reached for the curtain and drew them close.

"You were out for about fifteen minutes." Sasuke was saying as I walked back into the living room and handed him the can of root beer. "Things happened pretty fast."

A shrill ringing punctured through the stillness, and I jumped. Sasuke's eyebrows rose, though I paid no heed to the look he sent me. A flicker of fear immobilized my body. Feet planted solidly in the ground, I made no move to answer the chiming apparatus. "Sakura?" I looked up into Sasuke's questioning eyes. "You going to answer that?"

"Uh—the answering machine will get it." I reasoned quickly, purposely disregarding the telephone as I silently hoped whoever it was would give up and stop calling.

"_This is the Haruno's residence. Sorry we missed your call. Leave your name and message after the beep."_

The machine beeped. At first, there was nothing.

Nothing but a soft, quiet breathing from the other end of the line, indicating that there was, in fact, someone there. I froze.

Then, suddenly, silently, a voice spoke,

"_...I know you're there, Sakura."_

Before he said anything further, I rushed across the room and grabbed the telephone from its base. "Hi!" I greeted in a fake voice of jollity.

"He's there, isn't he?" the Rogue inquired, his cadence menacing and his tone deadly. I hid my alarm for appearance's sake, feeling Sasuke's eyes drill into my back.

I turned and forced myself to meet his gaze, "I gotta take this call."

"Sure." He said as I walked further into the house, out of earshot.

"Do you want him dead tonight?" growled the voice threateningly from the receiver.

"I didn't tell him anything." I claimed, "Sasuke has nothing to do with this."

"Make him leave." He ordered, "Now."

"But he'll only be suspicious—"

"Would you rather I get rid of him myself?"

"_No_," I exclaimed, "I'll do it. I'll make him go." I pressed the End button and noticed my fingers were trembling. Clenching my hands in fists, I breathed in slowly and recomposed myself. Rigidly, I walked back into the front room. Sasuke's eyes were on me in an instant.

"You should probably leave."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing." I racked my head for a lie believable enough for a sharp-eyed Uchiha. "I'm tired; it's past twelve, and it's a school night." Sasuke remained still, eyeing me with a look that visibly stated he wasn't falling for it.

"Who was calling?"

"My dad," I thought off the top of my head. "He's...not very comfortable with me being alone with a boy without any adults in the house." Genius.

"Oh." His face fell in defeat, "Okay, I guess." He stood up and began making his way towards the door only to turn around and face me at the last second. His eyes searched mine.

"What?"

"What's going on?"

I stared at Sasuke unblinkingly, despite the raging protests of my inner self. "I don't know what you're talking about," I told him indifferently and closed the door. It was for his sake, his safety.

Turning around, the sight of an empty living room reached my eyes.

I was alone.

Fright burning through my body, with limbs that weren't properly functioning at the moment, I strode forward in caution. My eyes darted at every direction, at every ambiguous shadow. It got darker the further down the hall, the light in the living room unable to reach this far. Even light had left me on my own. As a child, I'd always had issues with being by myself. I never did like walking down the street alone, and I never understood people's sense of freedom that tied with the lack of any help and company.

Solitude had always, from the past till this very moment, frightened me.

A dark figure shifted in my peripheral vision. I stiffened.

Immediately I realized, as my eyes flicked towards the amorphous silhouette standing in the far end of the back room, that the only thing more terrifying than being alone...

Is discovering that you're not.

"_Hello, Sakura." _

A smile formed amid the darkness.

* * *

**Hatake Kakashi**

For the first time that evening, Kakashi tore his eyes away from the filed reports that'd just come in from the medical forensics department—he'd been staring at the snapshots all evening that the gore and revealed organs of the corpses no longer disturbed him. The useless documents only told him what was already given; he needed something off the page, some sort of clue, and thoroughly reviewing these files had gotten him nowhere so far. His eyes were beginning to sting from exhaustion, and therefore he was glad for the distraction that suddenly stumbled into his office.

His eyebrows scrunched into a frown at the sight of the winded and distraught lad, his hair in a blustery mess (more so than the usual) and a slightly troubled look imprinted on his face. Clearly there was something bothering the boy; it was unlike him to be so flustered and disconcerted.

"What's the matter?" Kakashi asked quickly.

"It's Sakura." Sasuke replied in equal urgency. "Something's wrong."

* * *

_Author's Note: So I just threw away all my school stuff (My __favourite__ end-of-the-year activity) and __**get this**__, all my papers stacked together was 27cm high, && my cue cards? 18 cm, all 790 of them. Oh school, How I won't miss you this summer._

_Thank you for all the patience! And your unending support via reviews whilst I was gone. I love you guys. =) Here's to a summer vacay filled with quick updates!_

_**Read, Review & Thank You!**_

_Rain, rain, go away, come again anoth - no, wait, I love__ the rain! =)  
__~Keelah_


	36. Twenty Questions

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_Would you like me to show you how I killed Hozuki?"_

_**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter THIRTY-FIVE  
**__**Twenty Questions**_

I stood, entirely immobilized, as he moved from underneath the darkness and stepped into the light in a slow, threatening pace.

Holding my breath, I readied myself as I was to finally set eyes on the face of my own predator, but as the rest of him was illumined, a visage resembling that of an animal emerged instead. Where his eyes should have been were two hollow holes of darkness, and painted on the white textile was a thin black line, upturned into a wide, idle smile—a mask.

"Get out." I ordered, my voice wavering unsteadily. "Get out!" To be honest, I was surprised I even had the guts to speak at the moment. He was a mere several yards away from me, standing on the other side of the back room, the closest we've ever been. In a blink of an eye, he could catch me in his grasp with ease, and I would have no chance in fighting him off, no way to defend myself. I gulped.

"Sasuke is proving to be quite a handful." He remarked all too cordially.

"He hasn't done anything."

"Did you like my surprise back at the Academy?" He went on as though I hadn't spoken. "I know how you _love surprises._"

"Why are you doing this? Why _me_?" I received nothing but the stagnant beam of the mask he wore. I growled, "Answer me!"

"Seeing you so frazzled is entertaining."

Entertainment. That was all the purpose I served.

A thought struck like a switched on a light-bulb. "How about a game?" I suggested, "You love games, don't you? Let's play then." Quickly, I browsed my thoughts for ideas. "Twenty Questions."

At the proposal, his head tilted to the side, the pair of hollow voids piercing through me. Frightened, I looked away—a deed that noticeably brought him gratification. With stimulated enthusiasm, he inquired, "Twenty from you or me?"

"Both." I answered, negotiating. "Ten questions for you, and ten for me."

"Alright." He agreed, delighted. "I'll go first. The Uchiha—he isn't coming back?"

"No, he's not." I answered the first query in haste and wasted no time asking mine, "How did you get in?"

"Didn't Sasuke already tell you to make sure all your windows are closed?"—I remembered; Sasuke had said so the first time he'd come to my rescue, when I'd left the front door open and the Rogue had threatened to enter. He must've eavesdropped on our conversation. I wasn't very surprised.

"Why are you here?" A nuance of desperation was audible in my voice. "Just... watch me from afar like you always do. Stay away." I whispered.

I felt his eyes dancing they clamped onto me, along with that frozen grin of his mask. The cold, blank look sent shivers down my spine. "But that would be so dull and repetitive. Visiting you gives some sort of variation." I flinched—I was a mere hobby, a sick fixation. "Let me ask you, Sakura, what have you been telling Sasuke?"

"I didn't tell him anything," I cried out. "He doesn't know!"

"Oh?" he replied doubtingly, "I'm not so sure about that. He's been looking into things lately. You should tell him to mind his own business. Or would you like me to inflict that message myself?"

Something in his words caught my attention. _Inflict? _"What are you going to do?"

"What do _you_ think I'm going to do?"

"He has nothing to do with this! He's just upset...because he'd already lost Karin. And now, Suigetsu..." I choked on a sob, and repeated the name in remorse, "Suigetsu. Why him?"

"Was he not bothering you just the other day?"

"He was being _friendly_." I shouted, "He's never done anything wrong, he—" I bit back all my aggravation and recomposed myself, shutting my eyes to prevent the tears that threatened to fall. "The pictures, back in the school. You took them?"

"You're seriously asking that." He stated, deadpanned. "It's a little apparent by now, isn't it? I take great interest in the subject of my current fascination."

I huffed in disgust, "You're sick. Why are you doing this?"

"Does there need to be a reason?"

I stated with incredulity. "This is your idea of a _hobby_?""

"You prove to be quite entertaining in your pathetic state." I sent him my pitiful attempt of a glare. "You drown so much in guilt and yet do nothing about it—that's the great thing about you, Sakura. You give me total control. You wouldn't dare speak of this to anyone. You know why?" He asked tauntingly, "Because you're afraid, just the way I want you to be. And you'll stay that way, helpless and petrified."

The shrill ringing of the telephone reverberated across the house, silencing us both in effect. We stood for a moment in stillness as I struggled over what to do, battling with my inner self on whether or not to run. The machine tinkled not too far from where I presently was, only on the other room, and it would take me, say, three seconds to run down the hall, one to pick up the phone, and another to yell out "Help". Five seconds in total—that was all I needed.

The Rogue measly waited for my next move; it didn't seem as though he wasn't going to budge anytime soon.

I decided.

As swift as I could, I rotated and sprinted to the kitchen across down the hall. I slammed the French doors shut behind me and immediately grabbed the phone. Adrenaline gushed through my veins.

"Hello?"

I recognized who it was instantly.

"Sensei!"

"Sakura," The doors clicked behind me. I stiffened. "What's going on? Are you okay?" Kakashi asked, his tone coated with concern.

"I—"

"_I'm fine_."

An ominous voice whispered lowly in my ear. I closed my eyes as a shiver travelled through my body. He stood directly behind me, his chest in contact with my back, his presence overwhelmingly near and sinister.

"Sakura?"

"Say it." He hissed edgily.

"I'm fine." I repeated.

"Is everything alright?" Doubt was audible in Kakashi's voice. "You don't sound well."

"_Everything's fine_." The Rogue whispered.

And robotically, I repeated, "Everything's fine."

"Ask him why he's asking."

"Why would you ask me that, Sir Kakashi?"

A pondering silence emanated from the other end of the line. Then, the older man said, his answer abrupt and forthright, "Sasuke—he said you were acting strange. He wanted me to check up on you."

The Rogue chucked disdainfully, "Should've known."

"I've already been told of what happened back in the Academy. That must've been pretty traumatic for you, Sakura, seeing Suigetsu like that. Sasuke's pretty shaken up as well. Are you sure you're alright?"

_No, I'm not._

But the words were caught in my throat before I had the chance to voice them out. With a sharp intake of breath, I felt a cold, metallic edge press against my shoulder.

"Hurry up." He demanded from behind, impatience gravitating in his hushed tone. "End the call, already."

"Everything's fine, Kakashi," I told hastily, "Thanks for checking. Bye."

"Hey—hold on a second." I mentally cursed as I waited in anxiety, fighting the old habit of fiddling with my hands given that one minor shift could easily push the blade into my skin.

I could feel him toying with the knife, twirling it playfully like a plaything between his fingers, never once lifting the sharp apex from my shoulder. With some added pressure, he might as well have been drilling into my flesh—perhaps that was what the maniac had in mind. With my attention focused on the cutting edge that threatened to pierce through my arm, I barely heard Kakashi's voice ask, "Are you safe?"

"_Why yes, Sensei_," The Rogue impersonated in false gaiety as he loomed closely beside my face. "_I'm perfectly safe_."

"Why yes Sensei, I'm perfectly safe."

"Give me a yes-or-no answer and nothing else. Are you under duress?"

"_No._"Kakashi's strategy would have worked if the Rogue hadn't been standing dangerously close to me, his body against my backside, but he heard every muffled word from the telephone. He pressed his lips to my ear, lowly demanding, "Tell him, _no."_

I choked out, "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

There was another pause on Kakashi's end, before he finally, reluctantly replied, "Alright then, try and get some rest, Sakura. Good night." Before I could utter a reply, the phone was snatched away from my hands and slammed on the desk.

The Rogue snickered in my neck and, as if I was some kind of obedient dog, he praised, "Good girl."

At last, he stopped his hostile ministrations on my shoulder, and consequently, I drew out a sigh of relief. But alas he was not finished. He lifted the blade off my shoulder, only to press it once more on my upper arm. My heart pounded twice its regular rapidity as he dragged the edge down at a leisurely pace, his motion so light that it was almost tender, never quite cutting through the skin.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

"Would you like me to show you how I killed Hozuki?" He whispered as the metallic cold reached my wrist. My heart was pounding, and I tried to calm down, to decelerate its rapid pulse, but all attempts became futile when he twisted the blade around and he ran the edge back up my arm.

It was not, however, the blade that shook me to the bone; it was the chilling voice, its menacing undercurrent more piercing any cutting edge, whispering in my ear: "I sliced him to pieces, stabbed him again... and _again_..." The knife reached my shoulder, only to be hauled back down, making its second round. "_And again_."

"These people..." I croaked, "are dead because of you. How many... lives have you killed? Are you even aware, of how many people are dead because of you!" I felt the blade's motion stop abruptly, its tip pricking into the flesh just below my shoulder. Then knife was lifted off my arm.

A shuffling noise went on behind me, followed by a muted thud as something fell on the ground beside my feet. Looking down, I found the emotionless frontage of an animal staring back at me with eyes as black as voids—the Rogue had taken off his mask. All at once, he leaned in and brushed his lips on my shoulder, pecking the area he'd grazed with a knife not too long ago. I stiffened.

In silence, he murmured against my skin:

"How many people are dead because of _you_, Sakura?"

I shook, fighting the urge to break down in fear. The soft touch of his lips was anything but affectionate, and his light-feathered actions gave off a dark aura with an ominous intent—a warning.

Then, breaking the tense noiselessness, he whispered, "This game is over."

In a snap of a finger, the feel of him standing behind me disappeared completely, the mask on the floor vanished, and with the faint opening and closing of the back door, he was gone.

Yet I felt his lips still lingering on my shoulder, his breath on my neck. The ghost of his presence, the echo of his words, remained.

_How many people are dead because of _you_, Sakura?_

* * *

The entire second floor of the west wing was closed the following morning, and was kept inaccessible to any student and staff. I found the blockade unsurprising with the last night's events in mind, but the rest of the student body were absolutely mystified. Many went out of their way to satisfy their curiosities, oh-so-casually passing by the restricted section to catch a quick glimpse, even though their classes were most likely on the opposite end of the campus.

I, too, headed for the Socials building, though for an entirely different reason. The itch to revisit the maintenance closet had perturbed me overnight—has anybody seen it yet? Surely a room filled with pictures was not that easy to overlook, and the images were undoubtedly of me, thus I would certainly be the first one to hear about it—so why hadn't I?

Even as I was metres away from the Social Studies division, I spotted Kakashi and Morino instantaneously; Kakashi was on one knee, examining a reddish brown blemish with much focus, while the other man stood at the far end of the hall, in deep conversation with a woman who I recognized from the night before, Anko. The three of them quickly noticed my attendance.

It was Kakashi who moved from his prior spot to meet me by the entrance doors. He gave me the same scrutinizing look as he'd given the discolorations on the floor. "Yo." His greeting surprised me, as the casualness of it did not match the seriousness that held his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, good. Not enough sleep, but good. I'm good." I said good one too many times—Kakashi caught it as well, but chose not to further comment on it.

Instead, he asked, "So what brings you here? I don't really think this is the best place for you to be right now."

"Kakashi-sensei, I'm fine, really. I'm not... traumatized or anything." Right—as if being back here did not inflame last night's incident into my mind, as if the reminder of it didn't make me want to vomit. Who said I was traumatized? "I... left my wallet." I lied, "Here, last night."

"Where is it? I'll fetch it for you."

"No," I said a tad too swiftly. "I mean, I dropped it. I don't know where it is. I'm pretty sure it was here, though. Just a quick scan; I'll be done quickly, really."

I could tell he was a little unsure, but it wasn't long before the vacillation went away and he stepped aside to let me through. My blood began to turn cold as I made my way towards the same spot I'd headed to not that many hours ago, as if I were in some re-enactment of the previous night's episode.

The area did not contain any more puddles of blood, but not everything had been cleaned. Where Kakashi had been earlier, on a spot on the ground that he had been so focused about, now I saw were claret stains, as formless and scattered as the puddles that had left them. I looked away.

Up ahead was the maintenance storeroom. Swallowing the uneasy feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach, I reached out and grabbed the knob. Twisting the handle, I held my breath and swung the door open.

But the closet was empty.

* * *

I walked away from the out-of-use division, disappointed at the failure of my quest to the picture-pervaded closet—or rather, _once_ pervaded, now unexplainably rid of any snapshot.

"Have you _heard_?"

Had I been down on earth instead of wandering astray in random meditations, I would have jumped right out of my skin at the unexpected exclamation. I barely realized Ino's sudden emergence until she waved a hand over my face.

"Heard what?" I answered perfunctorily, and listened in a half-hearted manner as my light-haired friend poured out the information her keen hearing have most likely picked up on the way here.

"They closed up the B Wing. Hinata? Their History class gets to go outside in the courtyard, out in the sun. Lucky. Anyway, that's not my scandal. Guess what? They found a dead body in the Case Studies Lab. It was one of those guys from the program. How _insane_ is that?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, "I know." The look Ino gave me denoted the word "_What" _in bold large print with question marks and exclamation signs. "When I went back for my bag, I saw the body." A very impatient glare was sent my way.

"_You_ saw it? Why didn't you tell me this? _Then _what?"

"Then... that's it." Cleary, dissatisfaction was all she acquired from my lack of details. "I fell unconscious. Sasuke called the cops."

"_Sasuke?_" She screeched, "He was _with you_?"

"We ran into each other. He was washing off the graffiti outside. He came along." Which reminded me: I still needed to thank him, and maybe apologize while I was at it. Kicking him out like that was, I admit, a little rude considering all he'd done. Most guys had the inborn instinct to be the hero, the superman, but not a lot would have stayed behind with me after I fell unconscious the way Sasuke had done the other evening. "Suigetsu, the one who died, he was a friend of Sasuke's."

"Why am I only finding out about this now?" Ino expressed with much exaggeration. Shaking her head, she spared me the overstated speech of being hurt at my keeping secrets from her. "Anyway, I'm just glad it wasn't Shikamaru. I would have died!"

I sighed, astounded by how easily Ino had shifted from a topic so grave to something boy-related. "Have you ever even talked to him?"

"What? No!" She said bashfully—the first I've ever seen her coy with the opposite sex. "He's never with his girlfriend anymore, or she's probably his ex now. I heard she ran off or something, but anyway, _still_! He'd never talk to me. I'm not his type."

"And what would his type be?"

"I don't know. Considering he's got brains...a _nerd_, probably?" I was just about to roll my eyes when a frown took over my expression instead. From afar, I espied something protruding from the edge of my locker. It was a loose leaf, I realized a second later, wedged between the slit of the door, as though the piece of paper had been deliberately inserted into the cubbyhole.

As an instinctive response, I seized the item and turned it face-up on the palm of my hand.

It was a photograph of me standing on the front porch, hand resting on the doorknob, my head turned towards the blurry figure that was alongside me. The picture wasn't very clear, but I recognized the silhouette enough (and the porcupine-resembling hairstyle) to say that it was Sasuke, the two of us talking at the stroke of midnight as he saw me home.

The scene quickly bestowed a sense of familiarity in my head. This was taken just last night.

I let go instantaneously, as if suddenly electrocuted.

"Hurry _up_," Ino cried out, "or I'll be late to Chem."

The photograph faltered in the wind before ultimately falling to the ground.

"You go ahead," I told her distractedly, "I'll catch up."

Ino raised an eyebrow, but conceded nonetheless. "Guess I'll see you in class." I waited until she was out of my line of vision before picking up the photo on the floor and shoving it in my bag—but that wasn't the end of the eerily watchful images. That very last picture, I'd discover soon enough, was only the latest addition.

With trembling fingers, I turned the combination lock, only to find a large pile of paper slips pouring out in abundance as the door swung open. Small, quadrilateral pictures, dozens and dozens of them, scattered over the floor in arbitrary disarray.

A stifled gasp escaped my lips. Well, at least now I knew where all the prints had gone—from the closet, to my locker. I supposed I should have been baffled by the fact that the Rogue had been able to open my lock, but frankly it came to me as no surprise. Somewhere in this mountain of photographs, there was bound to be one as I turned in the right combination; either he'd watched me, or taken the easier, faster method of unearthing the student records.

Bending down, I briskly gathered the prints together, picking them up off the floor where they currently splayed in exhibition for everyone's eyes to see. Soon I collected each one, and as a result I ended up with a thick, untidy stack of photos. In a slapdash fashion, I grabbed a textbook, closed up the locker and walked down the hall. I sighted a nearby garbage can and headed for its direction.

As I sauntered by, I threw the stack in eagerness to get rid of it, letting the snapshots fall into the bin.

* * *

_**Sabaku no Gaara**_

_Damn it, _He gripped the garbage-packed bag and hauled it over his head into the large dumpster. His body focused on the task in hand, but his mind was elsewhere, centralized rather on the predicaments before him. _Nothing I do's enough._

He felt a rush of frustration surging through his veins, a sense of helplessness burning away his hope. Soon enough, only embers of his sanity would be left behind—he didn't want to know just how soon that time would come.

"Gaara?"

The familiar quality of the voice struck him. For a moment he thought it was a mere delusion, perhaps guilt frolicking at his conscience; but as he whirled around and his dark orbs of green met her lighter ones, he knew the sight before him was real.

"Sakura." He greeted, gradually and unconsciously coming out of his momentum of self-pity. A pleasant surprise had glazed over her expression, and he could say the same for himself—that was, of course, until he was reminded of the grimy rubber still gloving his hands.

Promptly, he slipped it off. She had to stop by the very moment he was taking out the trash. Christ, what great timing. The last time she'd dropped in, he'd been giving Kakashi a hand with the groceries. Being caught during the most inconvenient times seemed to be a curse that tirelessly attacked his dignity.

"Hey," Sakura greeted, fatigue weighing down her tone, as she walked towards him. She looked tired, world-weary, and for a moment he couldn't help but feel culpable. "I haven't really seen you around lately." He couldn't agree more. He hadn't seen the girl in quite a long while—of course, the other times didn't quite count, not when only one party had done all the seeing.

"Morino's been keeping us indoors, mostly. I was going to talk to you, at the hospital, but it didn't seem like the right time."

"Yeah," She responded sadly, "I know; me too."

The last time they'd in point of fact seen each other was of that night at the hospital, but with everything that went on around Karin's sudden death, there'd been no chance to talk. It hadn't exactly been the most ideal time to mingle. Their last conversation was on the day before that, a little over a week ago, when she'd appeared out of nowhere at their front yard much like how she had just now.

"So what are you doing here?"

"I actually came by to see Sasuke." He found himself frowning as an automatic response at the mention of the overconfident asshole. "Is he home?"

"Yes," he replied abruptly. What the hell does she keep coming by for Sasuke for? "He's busy with something on the computer, been on it for hours." Gaara explained, shaking his head. He'd never envisioned the Uchiha to be such a computer geek.

Turning his attention back to the pink-headed girl in front of him, he uttered, "I should go; I've got work at this marionette store, with my brother." He shook his head—again; Kankuro was an awfully obsessed puppeteer. "It was good seeing you again..."

"Yeah," she sighed, "You too."

After a curt nod, he walked away, only to find himself halting in mid-stride against his own will. "Sakura?" Their eyes met once more, and the following words came tumbling out of his mouth before any thought was put into it. "You want to go out sometime?" _What the hell are you on, Gaara? _"Grab dinner or something?" _What are you doing?_

A smile broke out of her once weary, sleepless face, and inside him, a warm sensation kindled at the thought that, for a change, he'd been the cause of that. But the light-hearted feeling soon faded to cinders as he realized how wrong this was. The smile was meant for him—but for heaven's sake, he was the last person to deserve it.

She answered, softly and gladly, "I'd like that,"

"Sakura." Their heads turned towards the new voice that thundered and interrupted their private moment, and both saw none other than Uchiha Sasuke standing not too far from them by the front door. His expression was that of indifference, his jaw set and eyes hard and impassive.

Clearly, Gaara was not anymore welcomed here, and frankly he hadn't the sufficient energy and forbearance to deal with the Uchiha right now. Paying no attention to the glares— or to the boy that sent them—he spun around and walked up to Sakura.

Softly, he told her, "I'll call you, okay?" She nodded. In her eyes flashed a hundred different emotions and a thousand more thoughts. To him, her emerald orbs, breathtakingly expressive, seemed to literally be a window to her mind.

It drew him to her even more.

_This is wrong_, a voice insisted in the back of his mind. _So wrong._

An inner battle took place as indecision descended upon him, but one eye contact between them was all it took to make up his mind. A single thought, an idea, crossed his head, wiping out all trace of principle he had left:

Screw the screaming protests of his rationale; screw the chains that tied him into this fucked-up mess. Completely and carelessly, he disregarded his common sense. He'll suffer the consequences of such a foolish deed later. At the moment, however, it didn't matter. None of it did.

Before any control or logic knocked some rationality into his senses... he did something he'd always wanted to do.

_Damn it all._

Leaning down, he closed the distance between them...

And his lips converged with hers.

* * *

_Memo: Fun Fact! There are really 20 questions asked, starting from the Rogue's "I'll go first" till his departure. You have no idea how long it took me to add that up & make sure it was 20. I actually had a piece of paper in front of me, "R" on one side &"S" on the other, literally tallying each question. Ahhaha x)_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!  
**__Feel free to freak out, whether it's about that very first scene with the Rogue, or the very last with Gaara! Lol_

_Summer's here! Off to stand in front of the refrigerator again,  
__Keelah_


	37. If Looks Could Kill

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_I no longer knew what was real and what was not. __Tonight, more than ever, I needfed to know the truth from the untruth.f  
__I needed something genuine, b__ecause hanging onto air has only left me to fall._

"_You __lied__."_

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY SIX  
**__**If Looks Could Kill...**_

If looks could kill, I would be hanging by a thread right now, holding on desperately to my ebbing lifeline as I inched my way up the front doorstep. Gaara, on the other hand, would be in an entirely different situation. If looks could kill, the red-head would have been mangled and beaten up, frozen and crushed by an ice berg as he neared death.

...At least, that was what Sasuke seemed to want to do, if he hadn't already done so with that glacial glare of his.

I squirmed as he refocused that gaze from the departing Gaara to pierce through me instead. "What are you doing here?" came his brusque demand.

"Hey," I greeted, stopping a safe yard away from the pokerfaced Uchiha. "You got a minute?"

"What for?"f

I hesitated. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I think you already got what you wanted." His eyes flicked over my head. What is _that_ supposed to mean?

Closing my eyes to the tart and snappish inquiry would be best, I told myself; after all, I was there to be grateful, not initiate another foolish squabble between the two of us. "I didn't get the chance to thank you," I continued nonetheless, "For...the other night. For staying."

"So you go and kiss some guy in front of me?" Hard obsidians drilled into my orbs. "You've got a funny way of showing gratitude, Haruno."

Whoa—attitude. What was his deal, anyway? Gaara had leaned in for the kiss, not I, and even though I hadn't pulled away Sasuke hadn't any right, or logical reason, to act so jeal..._jealou_—I couldn't even think about it.

Before I could pronounce any kind of rejoinder, he swivelled and walked into the house, leaving me to stand alone by the threshold. Uncertainly, I entered as well, supposing that the only reason he hadn't closed the door was for me to follow after him.

Unlike my last visit, the domicile was unusually quiet; it felt to me like a wholly different place. Maybe I'd gone to the wrong house, or had gotten sucked into an alternate universe. I knew, however, that none of those idiotic explications were true, and knew exactly the cause for the manor's ghostly condition: Suigetsu's death. I remembered it being this doleful on the night Karin had... passed away.

I spotted Shino propped by the back door with a plump cockroach sitting on the palm of his hand; Kiba sat in the dining, hunched over a cluttered binder. The two looked up, curtly bobbed their heads and went on with their business.

But Jugo, who was in the living room, gave no acknowledgement. He was huddled at the edge of the couch, his head in his hands, hair chaotically sticking out between his fingers, as stationary as a statue. My heart fell in sympathy, feeling blameworthy for his despair.

Unconsciously, I walked up to him and reached out, meaning to lay a hand on his shoulder, but before I knew it my wrist was caught in a solid, unyielding grasp.

I jumped, taken back as I stared into the murderous glower of the boy who was, only a second ago, so sombre. _"What?" _He snarled, intensifying his clutch around my arm to an aching extent.

"I—" I stuttered, "I—I didn't mean..."

"Jugo." It was Sasuke. "Let go." His voice calm with authority, he commanded, "_Now_."

In the same instant, I was released. Jugo looked up at him, his eyes now rid of any animosity, replaced by what I could only describe as shame. "Sorry, Sasuke," he muttered.

"Hn," Sasuke scuffed and without another word seized my upper arm as he walked away, towing me behind him. With a fleeting look over my shoulder, I met Jugo's suddenly apologetic gaze, now rid of any hostility. I gave him a smile and mouthed _"It's okay." _After a quick nod, he buried his head into hands once more, recouping his prior position of immobility, as if nothing had ever happened.

As Sasuke continued to drag me down the hall, I caught a glimpse of Neji in his room through the opening of the door, seated on a desk with a textbook before him. I was tugged along before I could see any more as Sasuke lead me into his room. Nara Shikamaru was lolled over the bed on the left side of the room; unlike the last time, he was fully clothed in a shirt and khakis. Upon seeing me, he cocked an eyebrow.

Letting out an irritated sigh, Sasuke demanded, "Give us a few minutes." Shikamaru rolled his eyes, but got up nevertheless. He passed us and walked out the room, muttering the word _troublesome _again and again. After closing the door behind the brunette, Sasuke ordered, "Go sit down." I slumped on his bed as he did the same on a chair across the moderate-size room. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're freaking frustrating, you know that?"

"What?" I asked. Was this still about Gaara? "If this is what happened earlier, Sasuke, it isn't really any of your—"

"I couldn't care less about what you do with _that guy_," he spat, eyes constantly shifting, from corner to corner of the room but never quite landing on me—the signs of a liar. "I'm talking about Jugo. You shouldn't have come up him like that."

"I just... I wanted to show my condolences..."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, not at all." I exclaimed, somewhat lying as I ignored the light soreness on my wrist. "You shouldn't have been so hard on him."

"He could've harmed you." He shook his head irately, "You don't know what he's capable of."

"What he's _capable_ of?" I repeated.

"Jugo's got a multiple personality disorder," he explained, "or whatever the hell it's called. He's the gentlest person I know, but he can be dangerous without knowing it. There's no saying what he could have done if I hadn't gotten to you in time."

It took a while for this to sink in. "Were they close? Suigetsu and Jugo?" Jugo's flare-up must have something to do with the deceased boy.

"Couldn't stand each other, but they were like brothers. I mean, we all are." Sasuke muttered, a nostalgic smile tugging at the edge of his lips as he stared distantly at nothing in particular.

"...I see."

He sent me a sidelong glance. "You don't know anything."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"It means, you don't know anything." Were we back to fighting? "You can't. You're stuck in your small, perfect world."

"Then why don't you clue me in, if I'm so clueless?" Sasuke looked away, saying nothing. He wanted me to understand them, their position, him, but how could I when he always closed me off like this? "Tell me. About anything. About you."

"I've got nothing to say to you."

Suddenly, I remembered the long-haired brunette I'd spotted at his desk only a minute ago. "Tell me about Neji."

Sasuke eyes glinted with satire, "Looking for gossip?"

"No," I bristled, "no, I'm just... if you think I know nothing, then change that. Show me what your world's like." _Tell me more about them,_ I thought, _more about you._

"Fucked-up, that's what it's like." I didn't say anything, only waited. For a moment he contemplated whether or not to say more, but after a few seconds of silence, much to my surprise, Sasuke went on, "When Neji's father died, he got into some things he shouldn't have, like we all did, I guess. When his uncle found out about what he was doing, he sent him away. They never took him back into the family."

I had wondered why Hinata had never mentioned this, but I supposed a banished family member wasn't quite an ideal topic of conversation. It didn't seem like she knew anymore about it than I did, anyway. "What... what about Shikamaru? He doesn't exactly seem like the kind who'd get into trouble."

"He isn't," Sasuke defended. "I mean—until his mentor got killed. We've all got some kind of turning point where it all started going downhill. That was his."

"What happened?"

"That's all you need to know." Privacy. I could respect that.

Stirring the conversation in another direction, I began, "What about..." My voice faded, unsure of whether I should mention the name. "...Gaara? He seemed a little upset earlier, like out of it."

"Really?" Sasuke rejoined, mocking a tone of surprise. "After that kiss, he looked pretty happy to me."

It was my turn to glare.

"His sister still hasn't turned up, I guess that's why." Cynically, he added, "And I don't know anything about him. We're not exactly what you'd call _tight._"

"Oh." Well, that figures I supposed. "And... Sai?"

"Killed his brother." I choked, my eyes widening in surprise. He smirked at my reaction. "Or so they said," he interjected, "But it was never proven. The only thing the cops found was some kind of picture book." I let my eyes scrutinize the Uchiha, trying to decipher whether or not he was screwing with me.

"...Karin?" At the name, Sasuke visibly stiffened. Immediately I regretted ever having to remind him of her, as there was obviously something I'd struck that was too close to home. In the silence that stretched between us, I shifted uncomfortably.

I was ready and willing to drop the matter when Sasuke suddenly spoke, "Her foster father. He beat her. She always hated going home."

A heavy sensation of revolt settled in my chest. I realized then that I really didn't know anything about this darker side of life, the side Sasuke and the rest of them were forced to face while I floated through childhood. I thought back to the time when I'd seen them together on the curb, then to the pictures I'd come across in his camera. Before I could stop myself, I whispered the question that had nothing to do with her past, or with my attempt to understand them.

"Did you love her?"

There was no hesitation in his tone, no concealment. "Once, yes," Sasuke replied straightforwardly. "But that was a long time ago." He said nothing more, and I knew it was a subject he didn't fancy discussing.

"What... what about you?"

His eyes snapped to mine. "What _about_ me?

"What happened... to you, after that incident with Zaku Abumi?" Though it was definitely a factor, surely what occurred back then was not the direct reason he was here where he was right now. Other things happened, worse things that have caused Sasuke's life to plummet downhill, and I couldn't help but wonder what they were. _Uchiha Sasuke, what have you been doing?_ "Why are you here?"

His eyes hardened. "We're not talking about me."

I refused to look away from him, and the staring between us prolonged for an extensive amount of time. Clearly, our little history talk was over. In the background, the phone warbled, resounding across the uncommonly hushed residence. Our adjoined gaze remained unbroken as Sasuke made no move of getting up to answer the phone. After a few seconds, the ringing stopped, and a loud knocking took its place. The door opened, effectively tearing Sasuke's attention away from me.

"What?" He snapped at the innocent Shikamaru.

The brunette went on unaffected, immune to the Uchiha's tetchiness. "When you said to give you a few minutes, I didn't know it meant _hours._" At the statement, I scanned the room impulsively for a timepiece. The alarm clock beside Sasuke's bed read: _6:02PM_ I've been here for nearly two hours? "And anyway, the call's for you. It's Kakashi." At this, Sasuke rose from his seat and wordlessly left the room.

Their departure rendered me alone in Sasuke's quarters for a second time, and much like the last my inquisitive nature took control. Soon enough, I was on my feet and moving towards the spot where Sasuke had been beforehand. My eyes swept over the somewhat systematic table; worksheets, notes and other school work were sorted in two different piles: Sasuke's on one side and Shikamaru's on the other. Writing implements were dispersed everywhere else. Glancing was all I'd been doing up until something in particular caught my eye.

On Sasuke's side of the desk (and this I knew from the binder labelled _Uchiha_), jutting from underneath the papers, almost entirely inconspicuous, was a pastel, yellow post-it. It was not the unadorned sticky note however that captured my now horrified attention, but rather the inscription across its smooth, papery surface. Scribbled on the small piece of paper was a familiar dry of characters that I had for all intents and purposes tried to forget.

It was an e-mail address.

Of the Rogue's.

How on earth had Sasuke gotten a hold of the Rogue's e-mail? My brain was unable to conjure any kind of answer judicious enough to make sense, and as a result further questions struck me. I was confused, but most of all, I was beginning to grow apprehensive, and the lack of explanation only made the feeling worse.

Why in the world did Sasuke have this e-mail?

"Sakura," I jolted, pivoting around in a sharp one-eighty to look into the eyes of Uchiha Sasuke. "I've gotta go to work. Kakashi needs me at the station..." He paused, inspecting me down and up. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine." I responded, despite the sensation of my limbs quavering beneath me. "Uh—water. Can you get me some water?" Uncertainty grazed over his expression, but as moments elapsed, he eventually revolved and mutely left once more. I forced my eyes back on the post-it. With insensate hands, I shoved the papers away to pick up the note and, in the process, a small photograph revealed itself from under the entities. I frowned, tilting my head to the side as I registered the picture in my mind.

Through a bedroom window, a girl sat, illuminated in the darkness by the light emitting off the computer before her, the setting oddly familiar. Then, realization came to me like a hit in the stomach—the girl was me.

The snapshot was closely akin to the ones I'd discovered in the closet the night before, the same ones I'd found inserted in my locker this morning. Another unanswerable question evolved in my head:

Why would Sasuke have this picture of me?

I didn't know what to think, what to feel. I'd gone through this before, over and done with these feelings of suspicion, and always I concluded that he wouldn't do that to me—that I could trust him. Yet there was no denying the photograph that stared up at me, the yellowy Post-It note on the desk with the Rogue's e-mail on it.

He was keeping something from me. He was hiding something. What was he hiding? How much did me know? How much was he involved?

What if... what if, all this time, I'd been turning to the one I should have been running _from_?

No, I thought. I didn't want to believe. _No._

Yet dread urged me to jump to conclusions and think illogically, and I fought the vomit rising up my throat as. My skin prickled, air jamming in my lungs and heartbeat pounding in my eardrums as panic engulfed my whole being. I needed time to think, space to breath and get my thoughts together and figure out what this meant, yet most of all, right now, I needed to—_Get out of there Sakura,_ said the inner voice of my head, _Get out of there _now_! _Yet I was frozen.

But what of the other night, when I'd seen Sasuke walk through the front door with my own eyes, I wondered? How would that have been possible? Had he returned through the back door? Or had he—?

Before I had the chance to answer the mental query, time ran out, and a grasp came down on my shoulder.

I screamed.

A hand instantly clamped over my mouth, muffling my cries of distress. Helplessly, I thrashed about, throwing my hands out in defence, but at a loss of balance I found myself falling, dragging my assailant down along with me.

"Sakura!" Sasuke's voice boomed, "What the hell's gotten into you?" I flailed, only to have my arms captured in a dead-lock grip. His body hovered over mine, superior, stronger and intimidating, as he pinned me to the floor. "_Stop it_," he hissed as I struggled, but it was no use. A sob escaped my lips.

"It's me," he assured, as if that was going to make me feel better. "It's only me."

As soon as I felt him slacken his cover over my mouth, I took the chance and shrieked. "Jesus!" he cursed, crashing his palm to shut my lips once more. "You possessed or something?" I kicked aimlessly, but he fastened my legs with his knees, immobilizing them to futility.

"Sakura," he snapped. "Look at me." I resisted harder (_Why was he doing this? Why was that photograph on his desk?) _writhing and lashing out, but he held on tighter. (_What does Sasuke know?) _"I'm not going hurt you." he said quietly, looking at me with the eyes of the boy who'd taken me out for a walk in the beach when all else was falling, who kept me balanced when I nearly tipped off the edge of insanity, and who I'd actually grown to trust in the past few weeks.

But I was so confused, too confused, too terrified. I didn't want to believe it yet my instincts, my fear, were far ahead of me, overwhelming logic. The image of the photograph and the e-mail became photographic echoes in the back of my skull, lingering and unforgettable.

I no longer knew what was real and what was merely a fib; I could no longer tell apart a hero from a villain. Tonight, more than ever, I needed to know the truth from the untruth. I needed to know who to trust. I needed something genuine to hold on to, because hanging onto air has only left me to fall.

"You lied." My voice was soft, almost bruised. "You lied about... about... I don't even know anymore. About all those alibis you fed me. Was it you? _All this time_?"

Sasuke shook his head furiously, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do!" I yelled, "The e-mail, the pictures, and...!"

He covered my mouth once more with a suffocating clasp. "Will you shut up?" His hold constricted as he whispered the harsh instruction, and unwillingly I stopped resisting. "Just...just calm down."

Neither one of us spoke for a long while, with only the sounds of our laboured breathing (mine from terror and Sasuke's from the effort of keeping me restrained) heard in the muted room. "I'm going to let you go, okay?" he spoke quietly, "But don't scream. Don't kick me or anything like that. Just let me explain." He gave me a long, hard gaze. "Alright?"

Vulnerably, I nodded—it was all I could do. His unyielding grasp slackened, and the instant he released me, I squirmed away and backed up against the wall on the opposite side of the room. At a snail's pace, Sasuke sat down on the edge of his bed, as if he knew that any sudden movement could and would set me off in panic afresh. "The e-mail address." I croaked, "Why do you have it?"

"What e-mail?"

"The one on your desk, Sasuke." I told him. "How did you get it?"

He sighed. "You saw that?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"_Sakura_." I looked up to find him already eyeing me from across the room. His gaze was intense, unwavering, but there was something else that floated in those pools of obsidian, a sentiment other than rigidity. It was something real, something sincere. In a whisper so quiet it sounded almost pained, he murmured, "I'm not the bad guy."

I buried my head into the dark comfort of my palms. "Then prove it," I whispered.

"I got an e-mail this morning from that sender." His voice, though low in volume, was certain and steadfast.

"What did it say?"

"To fuck-off, whatever that means."

I held my breath, wheels turning fast, fear of Sasuke suddenly, gradually transforming to fear _for_ him. "And the picture of me?" I questioned, "It was in between your binder."

"I found it on the floor last night, back in the Academy. I thought it was yours at first, and I was going to give it back, but you'd already seen Suigetsu dead like that, and I didn't want to make it worse for you." His eyes locked firmly onto mine as his face weighed with gravity. "But then, I realized something. You didn't look like you knew the picture was being taken. So I wondered: who could've taken it? Who could possibly be watching you?"

Just like that, the sudden and impulsive mistrust against Sasuke that ignited within me was extinguished, and the harsh, burning spotlight shifted from him to refocus above my head. Suspicion glazed _his_ eyes, now.

"It... could've been a wrong shot," I suggested, uneasy with the fact that our positions were now switched, and I was all of a sudden on the defensive while he was the one inquiring. "The camera was focused in the wrong direction."

"I thought of that," he said, "But why develop the shot? If it was a mistake, there's no need to have it developed." I tore my gaze away from his, unable to maintain such a concentrated eye-contact in the midst of lying.

To be able to present such a solid argument, Sasuke must have definitely, thoroughly thought this through. The Rogue's words came back to me, _"He's been snooping around lately, looking into things. You should tell him to mind his own business." _And then, his spending hours on the computer lately as Gaara had mentioned. The Rogue—he'd been telling the truth. Sasuke _has _been looking into things.

How had I ever, for a moment, deceived myself into believing he was my predator? Caught up in overwhelming emotions of fear and desperation, I'd been frantic to lay the blame on someone, anyone—to put a face on the Rogue, and not just the empty, hollow eyes of a mask.

"What's going on, Sakura?" He asked, slowly and lowly. "You know anything about that e-mail address?"

But now that I had just spilled some things I shouldn't have—I glanced at Sasuke, took in the unwavering gaze he'd fastened resolutely onto my eyes, the suspicion and determination that tinged his onyx pools—now, he was onto me. I cursed in my head. _Crap_, I thought, I shouldn't have gotten so carried away.

"No." All of a sudden, it occurred to me that if it was true, that if Sasuke truly had nothing to do with my suspicions, I couldn't drag him into this, not anymore than he had already entangled himself.

"Bullshit." I glared at him. His fingers ran through in a exasperated manner through his jet-black tresses, clawing at his scalp out of loss of what to do. "What are you doing, Sakura? Why are you—just tell me," he coaxed. "Tell me what's going on."

With the Rogue's threat ghostly lingering in the deepest caverns of my head, I clamped on my tongue, shutting my mouth subconsciously. He caught the miniscule deed and growled in frustration. "Why won't you let me help you? I can't make it better if you keep me in the dark."

Words nearly came spilling out of my mouth, but in time I bit my lip—I couldn't. I couldn't hurt him, or endanger him like that. Telling Sasuke would mean putting one more life at risk, whether it was his, mine, or someone else's that was close to me, as the Rogue had threatened. "There's nothing..." It was a gamble I couldn't possibly imperil—"...to talk about."

—a risk I wouldn't take, to put _his_ life in danger in exchange for _my_ relief. That would be too unfair. That would be too selfish.

Sasuke replied with his own rendition of wordlessness, which, other than the silence itself, consisted of scrutinizing stares for several demoralizing minutes.

Unexpectedly, he sighed resignedly, rose to his feet and made his way to the door. "Where are you going?" I asked, puzzled.

"To work," He abruptly responded, his eyes wandering in all other places as he avoided looking at me, as if he was too mad, or too thwarted.

"Get up," He said dismissively, "I'll take you home."

* * *

Abstractedly, I rested my head against the window and stared out through the lucent glass, watching the radiant blurs of streetlights as they evenly went by. As I sat in seclusion at the very back of the elongated vehicle, away from its passengers, I replayed the evening's occurrences in my mind.

Sasuke had wound up dropping me off at the bus stop. Though I had never been a fan of taking the public transit, especially at night, I had to make this time an exception. The stubborn Uchiha was late for work, given that Kakashi had called a second time just before we'd left the house, and I knew any more delay would get him in trouble. I didn't want to give him another reason to be so mad at me (as he was already doing that fine on his own). So I suggested, or more like adamantly insisted, that he just walk me to the bus stop—which he complied to, after a great verbal battle that I won, but with much reluctance on his side, as if he didn't believe I could find my way home in one piece and breathing.

However it wasn't our childish dispute that was, at present, imprinted on my brain. It was the short, yet momentous exchange of words that happened afterwards, moments before we departed ways. I still felt a light tingling on my skin where Sasuke had wrapped his fingers around my wrist, catching me just as I was about to step into the bus.

"Sakura..." He began to say, but I cut him off, already knowing his words before he had the chance to utter them.

"Don't." I stated, "It's better, Sasuke, safer, that you don't know."

God forbid I should be a lawyer, or a member of a debate team—judging from Sasuke's incredulous I'm-not-falling-for-that facade, I _sucked_ at persuasion. "Ignorance is bliss?" I attempted with a fictitious smile. He didn't laugh, didn't say anything. Taking the silence as my cue to leave, I turned away.

Then, he spoke from behind:

"I'll find out, Sakura. One way or another," he muttered,_ "_I won't let you go through this alone."

* * *

Something felt oddly amiss when I awoke the next morning. It began only as a gut feeling, but grew steadily as the day unfolded, though I couldn't quite put a finger on what it was that didn't seem right. Halfway through the second block, out the Biology lab's windows I spotted the guys languidly running about the north gravel field. At one point, Shikamaru lifted his head and met my eyes—or so it seemed. The glance he gave me was, although transitory, careful and deliberating, at least by the looks of it considering the distance between us. It didn't appear to be a matter that concerned me, so at the time I merely disregarded the strange occurrence and turned back to the diagram of a microorganism up front.

I caught sight of them again during lunch; they sat in the corner of the cafeteria as always, and I felt them throwing secretive (or so they thought) looks at me. Not a lot of them were talking, but whenever one did, the momentary glances at my direction increased. It was only when I'd conjured up enough guts to take a peek at their corner that I realized Sasuke was not with them.

After the break, I'd heard nothing else and saw nothing else from their group for the rest of that day. They appeared again on Thursday though, sending the same odd, wondering looks at my direction every time I happened across their line of vision. I dismissed the quirks merely as an outlandish habit of some sort.

At least, that was what I thought before their posse appeared waiting by my locker shortly after the bell rang at the end of the day. Actually, it wasn't their entire posse—just Shikamaru, Kiba and Neji. Everyone else not present, yet it was the absence of a certain dark-haired boy that rang in the silence and electrified the air.

My face fell into a frown. "What's going on?"

"We wanna talk to you about Sasuke." Shikamaru was the first to speak. "He was with you the other night, wasn't he? You left together, right?"

"...Yes," I replied unsurely, "He walked me to the bus. Why?"

"Did you get in a fight?"

At Neji's suspicious inquiry, I exclaimed, "_No_. Well, he didn't want to leave me taking the bus on my own—but it was a pretty stupid argument."

"Did he look angry?" the Hyuuga continued to ask, "Maybe you pissed him off."

"He looked calm when I left him. What is this about?"

"Sasuke doesn't think when he's upset," Shikamaru explained, "Maybe something happened between you two that set him off."

"Set him off?" I echoed, "What do you mean? What did he do?"

"He's gone," Kiba declared. My heart thudded.

"...Gone where?"

"Gone we-don't-know-the-hell-where."

Shikamaru nudged an elbow into Kiba's rib, lightly, just enough to silence the agitated canine-boy. "Sasuke's missing," he clarified as I digested in this new information with much difficulty. "You got any idea where he might be?"

"I thought he went to work," I told them, worry growing within me as well. "To help out at the station."

The brunette genius whipped his head from side to side, "He never got there," Nara said gravely, "he never came home that night either."

The sensation of my heartbeat hammering against my chest became overwhelming. "Does—does Kakashi-sensei know?"

"He's made calls." Nara replied, "But no one's seen Sasuke. You were the last one with him." But I knew his last statement wasn't true. I was not the last to see Sasuke.

He wouldn't have run off like that—he hadn't the reason to, plus the fact that Sasuke valued this last chance at the program more than anything else, that I knew for certain. He wouldn't simply throw away all the progress he's made over a silly dispute than cropped up between us the other night. Sasuke wouldn't just run away.

Therefore, if he hadn't _run away, _then that left only one rational conclusion. Maybe he never went to work that night because he never got the chance; maybe he never got home because he couldn't. Maybe something else came up.

Or some_one_.

Alarm and trepidation filled the entirety of my body, from the tips of my fingers, to my limbs and all the way to the soles of my feet. Ignoring the questioning yells of the boys behind me, I whirled around and darted for the nearest exit.

"_Or would you like me to inflict that message myself?"_

_Inflict? "What are you going to do?"_

_"What do you _think _I'm going to do?"_

_No,_ I thought pleadingly as I sprinted down the hall.

_Please, no._

* * *

I burst in through the front doors and ran straight up to my room. With unsteady hands, I fumbled for my laptop and turned it on. Waiting for the computer to start up had never felt so long. "_Hurry_," I whispered, tapping my fingers impatiently upon the keyboard. I didn't wait for the desktop to load. The second the screen materialized, I double clicked _Messenger _and logged on. Automatically, I pointed the mouse on a certain screen name and double clicked.

_(Offline) Any messages you send to offline contacts will be received the next time they sign in._

Driven by panic and agitation, I stood up sharply and seized the phone that was, up to that time, situated peacefully on the cabinet counter. Touching the down arrow, I scrolled down the list of previous callers and selected the one labelled _Unknown Caller._

It didn't even ring. Almost immediately, a mechanical voice pronounced: _The number you have dialled is not in service. Please try your call again la— _I slammed the phone back on its stand. Crap, where _was _he?

Frustrated and disconcerted, I pivoted hurriedly to search for yet another way to contact the seemingly nonexistent individual, but it seemed as I turned around that the person I was trying to get a hold of had come to me instead—and had been there, behind me, all along.

I gasped, jumping at the unexpected sight of the animal-like masquerade, its empty, prowling eyes boring into me. "Looking for me?" He asked, his tone drenched with a sadistic kind of humour.

"What did you _do_!" I screamed at him.

"Oh, Sakura," He chuckled, low and highly amused, "Don't make me say I told you so."

I froze.

Though his face was hidden under the mask, I could sense the cunning smile that he undoubtedly wore at that very moment. The Rogue did not hold back when it came to bloodshed. He didn't bluff when it came to killing. His head was tilted to the side in delight, the eyes of an animal ominously puncturing into me.

The blank holes were shadowed with enmity, highlighted with his thirst for more bloodshed, and ebbing with an undertow of ill-intent.

"What did you do to him?" I whispered.

But his hostile gaze said it all.

"You'll see," the Rogue uttered, "_Soon_."

If looks could kill,

...then that meant Sasuke was already dead.

* * *

_Memo: ...THE END. ahahahah __xD What would you do if I said I was ending IM right here? lol_

_Who here actually uses Communities (C2s) to look for fics? 'Cause I don't, or didn't, but omg, I just found this C2 that gathers all 1000+ reviewed fics, and I guess it's pretty popular seeing as it's the most subscribed, && it has the most epic stories. I think I just found my summer reading list. x) Go check it out you guys! There's one of 100+ One-Shots too._

_**Read, Review and a thousand Thank You's for all your encouragement and support!  
**(Oh, and you know what? I'd also like to thank the 300+ people who put this fic on their Faves & Alert lists. Since some of you don't review, I don't really have a way to reply and say thanks for reading this fic. So I'm doing it here! lol. And to the C2 staff members that added IM to their archive, thanks as well!)_

_Back to doing nothing,  
Keelah_


	38. Knight in Bloody Armour

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Now that he was done with Sasuke, this little girl who can't keep her mouth shut will soon get her fair share of blood._

_He'll make her bleed._

_Ceaselessly._

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY SEVEN  
**__**Knight in Bloody Armour**_

**Uchiha Sasuke**

"_What the—?"_

The pain came in asymmetrical waves, the distance between them irregular and the time of each immeasurably long-drawn-out.

_He collapsed on his knees, his gut throbbing from the thousand bricks that had just smashed through his torso. Before he could get up on his feet and throw a reprisal, hands grabbed him from behind, locking his arms in captivity. He struggled and fought back, but the soreness in his stomach weakened him. Restrained by the elbows, he was left exposed and vulnerable to any following attacks._

"_What's your problem!"_

For the hundredth time (or more than instances he could possibly keep track of) an upsurge of pain rushed through his body. He would never get used to it. The suddenness and intolerability of each burning current always managed to catch him off guard, nearly knocking the consciousness out of him every time. His teeth gnashed as he restrained a scream that forced its way up his throat, and settled instead with a sharp gasp—bad idea, Sasuke found out a second later.

_Sure enough, another blow struck him, this time to the chest. He swore, feeling something crack within. _

"_You," a dead-panned voice stated with a spiteful undertone._

Almost immediately, a stabbing sensation overfilled his lungs, like knives coercing themselves out from within his chest cavity. He groaned, helpless and frustrated—it seemed every movement he made only worsened his already hellish condition. He felt as though a magnifying glass hovered over him, enlarging his torture so he could feel every torn tissue, every broken bone, and every open gash.

_Sasuke whipped his leg forcefully, kicking with all his might, and allowed himself the fleeting pleasure of smirking as his foot collided with the guy's shin. But it wasn't enough to gain the upper hand in this already loosing skirmish. Just as swiftly, the impact of hard, tightly clenched knuckles came crashing down on his right cheek, wiping the smirk off his face, consequently whipping his head to the left so hard he swore his neck nearly broke. Though the guy's hands were gloved, the fabric grazing across his skin, Sasuke felt the full force._

Unconsciousness would overcome him every now and then, but he fought it as much as his remaining strength would allow. He was unsure, with the dry feeling in his throat, the chilling sensation inside him and the sea of red surrounding his body continually replenished by the gash on the side of his head, whether or not he would wake up again if he were to pass out.

_He spat the blood that had pooled in his mouth, its metallic taste lingering on his tongue. "Who..." he gasped, "the hell...are you?"_

_He needed not to look up; his head was snapped up for him as a shoe collided violently with his chin a short second later._

"_Sakura's friends."_

Breathing heavily, Sasuke stared up at the sky, remaining as stationary as possible. The wave of pain had passed, but its aftershocks still lingered like a claw, clamping onto him insistently. The stinging notion distorted his thoughts; in fact, for the past few hours his thoughts had been nothing but a hazy boundary between sleep and wakefulness, pain and numbness.

_At the mention of the girl's name, something clicked in Sasuke's brain, like a light bulb suddenly set in motion with vigilance. His eyes narrowed in distrustful slits. "What?" Another blow to the stomach. Damn it, Sasuke thought, cringing. There were two of them; one executing all the punches, and the other behind him, holding back any possible retaliation Sasuke could act on. He could hold his own in archetypal fights, so long as the numbers were fair. Heck, two against one he could handle, but if the first blow had knocked the breath out of him before he even knew he was in a fight, adding that with the constrictions of his arms—he stood not a chance._

Slumber hovered over him—he was tired. Behind his eyelids, the image of a certain light-haired girl flashed. He fought the urge to react; any facial expression would hurt his swollen cheek and a sigh would further upset his already damaged lungs.

"_It's you..." Sasuke growled, "You're the one...messing with her, aren't you?"_

He needed to speak with her.

"_Actually, you've got the wrong guy." He spoke jovially; kneeling down, he soon came face to face with Sasuke—but it was too dark, and the light directly behind the guy dimmed his features so much that Sasuke's eyes could only make out a dark blob for a face. "I'm just assigned to mess with you."_

He needed to see her. He—

_Sasuke blinked hard as his head snapped the other direction, a raw sensation pounding on one side of his face. He was just landed with a punch, but something more rammed his face than a human fist; something harder, sharper. A numb twinge of pain ran across the corner of his eyebrow, just above the lid; it wasn't until the thick, crimson fluid had suddenly blinded his left eye that it occurred to him he was cut, and deeply. The cut bled slightly, at first._

—An aching sensation clamped onto his lower leg. Suddenly, his calf muscle contracted from the bitter cold, effectively resurfacing him to a state of consciousness. Sasuke stifled a gasp his leg cramped tighter and tighter, but it was too late. The act of suppression jolted something in his lungs; instinctively, he writhed: bad move. The side of his rib pounded, reminding him of the bruises that most likely coloured over every inch of his skin.

_But gashes above the eye bled profusely, he soon learned as blood began to seep through his vision, smothering the world red. He peered with a single eye at the fist that had just clobbered him. On the back of the guy's hand, fastened on the glove's material, a rectangular piece of metal shone in the nightlight. Its edge dripped with blood—his blood. Fuck, he thought; what kind of a coward embeds a metal fragment on his glove and then goes and punches someone?_

And just like that, the chain effect was triggered. Suddenly, his whole being was once again on fire, and every attempt he made on putting out the feeling of inferno only served as fuel to a more violent, excruciating incineration.

"_Oi." The voice came from behind him, "Let's finish this up and get going."_

_The man before him tilted his head to the side and smirked; though barely visible, Sasuke caught a strange glint before his eyes, light reflecting off a glass surface. "What? Feeling pitiful for the guy?"_

The rain worsened his condition more than helped it. The moisture kept his lips from drying up, and the beads of water had washed away most of the blood that matted his eye, but that was as far as its assistance went.

_Sasuke felt the other one stiffen behind him; a robotic voice followed, "I feel no such thing."_

_A teasing chuckle emitted from his aggressor. "Oh?" he expressed, doubt coating over the single syllable. Then, with a fleeting glance at Sasuke, he said, "Why don't you finish this up, then?"_

Along with the rain came the cold, its cutting edge setting off cramps and rendering the loss of feeling in his fingers and limbs.

"_I give the orders," said the other one in a chilly, arctic voice. "Remember who you work for at the moment."_

_A pause. Still blind on one eye, with blood oozing past his cheeks and dripping off his jaw, Sasuke heard him adding in a whisper, "And I will gladly do so." And just like that, he was all of a sudden skidding across the ground, pointed ends of twigs and branches scraping his face and limbs. A shadow enveloped him, overcast from above. Against the bright orange glow of streetlamps, through what was left of his blurred sight, he saw the outline of his assailant—not the one with the crazy glove, but the other guy who had held him captive the whole time. He looked familiar—but before Sasuke could extend on that thought, the man spoke, low and diabolical:_

"_Say hello to her for me, will you?"_

Each droplet felt abnormally heavy.

_And that was when the rainstorm of fists came crashing down, punches and kicks plummeting simultaneously that he could no longer distinguish one from the other. Darkness began to leach into his vision. Keeping his eyes open was getting harder and harder by the second, until ultimately, he no longer had the strength to stay awake._

Lying defenceless on the muddy ground, each droplet hammered on his body. He forced a sigh, ignoring how much it hurt, and gave up the battle against the stupor. The pain would come whether he fought against it or not, and maybe too much of it would eventually numb his body. He'd been lying there for hours. He was cold, beaten, hungry, dehydrated, bruised and exhausted.

_His eyes closed._

Having just about enough of the torture, almost willingly, Sasuke welcomed the heavy sensation of eternal sleep.

_It continued to rain._

* * *

Not-so-natural evasion of eye contact in the hallways.

Reticent glances across the lunch room.

Premeditated dodging in the afterschool rush.

Now, I wasn't an expert on human behaviour, but I was pretty sure deliberately ignoring someone and then whispering behind their back when you thought they were out of earshot but really weren't, was a total giveaway of whatever it was you were pathetically attempting to secrete. Whether they were trying to hide something, or circumnavigate, these guys were failing miserably.

I walked through the entry gates of the Academy the next morning and spotted a band of dark-clothed boys around the north end of the gravel field. All heads turned at the mere sight of me, followed by a quick group huddle, buried in deep discussion. No more than a quick second later, they were all abandoning ship. This went on as the day unfolded, not that I came across any of them often (as if on some mutual agreement to purposely avoid my path).

By the time the dismissal bell rang, I had just about enough of waiting. Kakashi was hard to catch, so it seemed the only way I'd be getting updates on a certain dark-haired individual was to directly question his posse.

They stood, all of them, out in the courtyard, ready to leave, when I spotted them after school.

"What?" Neji asked bluntly, as though he knew not the reason behind my standing in front of them, arms crossed, face fixed expectantly. Gaara caught my eye and offered a smile; I couldn't help but smile back. Our exchange didn't go unnoticed by his brother, who merely rolled his eyes in response.

"Well?" I questioned, getting back to the situation at hand.

"Yes, I'm quite well, thank you."

I glared at Neji, and then aimed my acerbic gaze to the rest of the team, except, well, Gaara. "There's something you're not telling me." In the corner of my eye, a certain brunette shifted uncomfortably. As my eyes flicked towards Shikamaru, a fleeting look of uncertainty passed between him and Neji. Though it lasted no more than a second, I caught it in an instant. "What?" I blurted, looking back and forth between the two visibly undecided boys. At their lack of response, I began to fret.

"What is it?"

Finally, Shikamaru nodded his head, and upon the gesture of agreement Neji cleared his throat and tentatively spoke. "Sasuke," My heart thudded. "They, uh—they found him this morning."

Air jammed in my throat.

"He was in the forest, looked like he's been left there for hours."

I couldn't seem to push a breath out of my lungs, which was contracted by horror's grip. They found him. _Found_ him?

He was gone.

Dead.

Just like that.

And the Rogue had done it—he really did it. Despite the fact that Sasuke had nothing to do with our game, the Rogue had gone and killed him. Suddenly, I was wheezing.

"I—I can't...I can't believe he's—"

"He's at the General Hospital." I blinked, confused. "They're making him stay for the night or two."

I chocked, "You mean, he's alive?"

Neji raised an eyebrow, "Well, yeah. Did I forget to mention that?" Relief drained the remaining strength that held my legs—I nearly collapsed, all the while fighting the urge to slug Hinata's cousin.

"I want to see him. I'm going—"

"Listen," Shikamaru interrupted before I could speak, "Maybe you shouldn't come down there. He needs the rest."

My mouth opened to retort, but Shikamaru's decided facade told me he was serious.

_Fine_, I thought.

Tomorrow, I would go.

* * *

The rain drizzled lightly, its soft sounds of drip drop ricocheting onto the pavement and against the umbrella upheld above me. The rutted sidewalk retained puddles of rainwater, splashing underneath my shoes as I trod towards the direction of the Konoha General Hospital.

The original plan had been to come down there this morning, but when I chewed over what I'd say to Sasuke and came up point-blank, the visit had been intentionally postponed till after school—and even then, after seven given hours, the best I could come up with was improvisation: wing it; extemporize; do off-the-cuff.

What was I supposed to say to him anyway?

The feeling of not knowing what to expect, having absolutely no idea how things would transpire or what would come out of it, flailed solidly in the pit of my stomach. My thoughts were a nonsensical muddle in my brain. How much did Sasuke already know? Surely, he'd dug around way too much for Rogue to simply sit back and let be. But at the same time, was it not only three days ago that my wariness of the Uchiha had been ever-increasingly existent? Was it not only three days ago that the word _Rogue_ and the name _Sasuke_ somehow amalgamate together as one person in my head?

Whatever happened to _that_ theory?

My brain pounded from within as the quiet trickling of rain, once with a calming effect, became an added nuisance to my psychological chaos. This was why I planned to be a Doctor and not a Scientist—indefinite hypotheses that unsteadily balanced between one side and another were far too perplexing.

Up ahead, the vanquished-looking buildings of the general hospital came into sight, the parallel structures white washed with old age. Ever since the avant-garde Konohagakure Medical Centre was constructed on the other side of the city, garnished with welcoming gardens and a clean parking lot, the careworn community sickbay had nearly been forgotten.

Newly refurbished or not however, hospitals were hospitals, and something about them housed a sense of dullness and depression that always adhered to me whenever I walked down its lifeless corridors. Swallowing my mounting discomfort, I marched towards the front desk.

"Um, Sasuke? _Uchiha_ Sasuke?"

The receptionist didn't bother to look up; with a world-weary expression, as though she'd wasted half her life away sitting behind a commonplace desk, the middle-aged woman clicked away at her keyboard. "Room two-thirty-seven; Recovery Sector."

As the elevator doors parted open, I quickly sighted two individuals dallying in the waiting room: Shikamaru and Kiba—my eyes scanned the area as I walked out the lift, surprised that Akamaru was nowhere in sight. At the dull sounds of my footfalls onto the resilient floorboards, the both of them turned their heads. "Oh, hi." Shikamaru greeted, sounding the least bit astounded, like my being there came to him as no surprise. "He's uh, inside in that room—hey, wait!" I halted in midstride before I could head any closer to Sasuke's door.

"What now?"

"Just hold on a second; maybe you shouldn't..." I waited. "Well, you can't just walk in—" Suddenly, I got the message, caught on to all the deferrals thrown to me by Shikamaru.

Sasuke didn't want me around. He didn't want to see me.

"You know," I began, feeling a little hurt in spite of the fact that I was in no place to be. It was my fault he was here in the first place. He had every right to shun me away, even if he didn't know it. "If he doesn't want to see me, just say it."

Shikamaru's eyes widened from lethargy to shock. _"No."_ he exclaimed, "Not at _all_."

"Are you kidding?" Beside him, Kiba let out a satirical chuckle, "You're the first person he asked for this morning."

Oh.

"It's just, Kakashi's inside having a word with him." The pineapple-head motioned towards the closed door to the right, "Wait a while.."

I made my way to the room Shikamaru had nodded in the direction of, an austere barrier exhibiting a silver heading that indicated **237, Uchiha Sasuke** in italicized letters. Anxious and bored, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

"...are you absolutely sure?"

My eyes slid over to where Shikamaru and Kiba sat a good few yards away. Both hadn't spoken, and it seemed both hadn't heard what I just did either. Seeing as we were the only ones in the hall, the voices couldn't have come from anywhere but the other side of this door.

"Yes."

My ears perked up at the muffled fractions of conversation that percolated through the wooden division. I recognized Kakashi's bewildered voice, irritation audible even from my side of the barrier.

"So you're telling me that you got beat up... but the attacker said nothing, nothing was stolen, and you saw _nothing_?" Silence replied. "Are you shitting me?"

I blinked, shocked. Hearing the old man curse was a surprise—he must have been genuinely pissed.

"Yes." It was Sasuke. He sounded so tired, yet regardless of the hint of exhaustion, he spoke in monotone, deficient of any sentiment, even sincerity. I supposed Kakashi had caught that too. Something shuffled about, and I imagined the man pacing back and forth in dissatisfaction.

"We both know that doesn't make sense, Sasuke. You must've seen or heard something, anything."

"I didn't."

A pregnant pause. "Don't tell me this has something to do with your broth—"

"No." Sasuke barked, his voice now thundering with an ambiance of truth that wasn't present in his earlier responses. "It doesn't. I promise, Sensei."

On the other side of the door, Kakashi sighed heavily. I waited for him to say more, but after a few hushed seconds, only the sound of footfalls reached my ears. Without warning the door swung open, rendering me to jump away instinctively, taken back.

Kakashi Hatake stood at the threshold, gazing at me with a look of surprise and hilarity. He closed the door behind him before saying his signature greeting, "Yo."

"How is he?"

"A pain in the ass."

I controlled the smile that fought to show on my lips. "But what happened? Is he going to be okay?"

"He was found unconscious by the woods early this morning. Not a whole lot of people passed by there, so it was hard for anyone to see him. Looks like he's been there for about thirty-two, thirty-tree hours, tops."

"He just... _lay _there?" I asked, confounded. "Why didn't he get up and look for help?"

"He broke a rib on the right side and three on the left, one of which punctured into his lungs—a minor injury, I assure you." Kakashi added upon seeing the horror-struck expression on my face. "His shoulders were quite disjointed, and he's got a grade one concussion after several blows to the head. A few torn tendons in his leg, pulled a muscle. He also suffered dehydration and a mild case of hypothermia."

The paragraph-long catalogue of injuries worried me, but not as much as the question that's been nagging me ever since I'd gotten here. "Do you... do you know who attacked him yet?"

His earlier, welcoming smile embossed from underneath his mask waned, and in its place, a reflective frown. "That's the thing," he said, "Sasuke has absolutely no idea."

There was something in his intonation that told me he didn't wholly believe that, a strong undertow in Kakashi's voice that implied he thought exactly otherwise, as though he believed there was more to the story than what Sasuke was willing to let on.

As though he believed Sasuke had withheld from him certain pieces of the actual narrative.

And I was beginning to get the impression that he was right.

* * *

The lever-styled handle rotated, rusty gold hinges creaking lightly as the door gaped open.

The room, akin to every other section of the hospital, was plain and essentially unfilled, basicity at its maximum. An outdated television hung like a tattered box on the ceiling in one corner; and pallid drapery, devoid of any motif, was suspended on either side of a window, pushed apart to let in however little light was allowed by the overcast skies. The hospital bed was situated in the center of the room, complete with ever-so complicated mechanisms of foldable frames, and adjustable handles and railings.

In the midst of the one-dimensional pallor, a figure was sat on the mattress, watching the gray clouds and falling rain through the glass. He appeared just as ashen, painted with the same lacklustre colour as his surroundings.

Sasuke turned to face me the second I stepped into the room, and our eyes met—mine tentative while his, an ice-cold glare. For a moment I held my breath, letting his sharp radar-like gaze scan me from tip to toe, gliding down and up before dismissing my presence as nothing more than immaterial space. He looked away.

So much for wanting to see me.

Inaudibly, I closed the door and ambled to the bedside, only to stop a safe yard away as my stockpile of courage diminished out of the blue. My eyes carefully examined Sasuke. He sat upright against a wall of pillows, his legs tucked under a flaccid blanket. Bindings coated his entire right arm, and one of his shoulders was visibly swollen. From beneath the covers and through his hospital robe, I caught a glimpse of his chest; like most of the rest of him, his upper body was swathed in multiple layers of bandage and surgical dressing. A needle was stuck on the back of his hand, its cord leading to a bag of colourless fluid hanging above his head.

At a snail's pace, my gaze moved up to his face. His left cheekbone sported an awful bruise, a tender fusion of blues, reds and purples, while a less painful looking yellow tinge encircled his right eye. A patch of gauze was affixed just above it, as a thin scarlet line stained through the white material, covering what I could only guess was a long and deep cut. Wrapped around his head was a discoloured strip of bandage, blotched with dried red—blood.

My heart sank at the sight before me.

"It looks worse than it actually is," Sasuke stated unemotionally.

I tried to believe him. A few strands of ebony hair stuck out from the binding around his head, making him look like a little boy who'd fallen off a tree while trying to climb its highest branch. The hard-hitting Uchiha I used to know up until then was gone, now replaced by an ordinary guy lying in a hospital bed, weak like every one of us becomes every now and then. I never thought I'd see Sasuke this enervated; it simply wasn't like him to be so... broken.

"I hate being like this, you know?" he spat in antipathy, still averted away from me. "I'm useless here, helpless." His fingers clench into a fist so tightly that I feared the needle on his hand might break—and it was then that I began to understand. The sovereign Uchiha was used to independency; he held his own, relied on himself. Being in a weakened state like this was something new to him, something that frustrated him.

Self-reproach bubbled inside me. Before I could think about it, words slipped out of my mouth beyond my control. "I didn't mean for this to happen," I murmured.

A chuckle, bitter and sharp, escaped him. "Why are you apologizing? It's not like it's your fault..." Sasuke took a deliberate pause. "Is it, Sakura?"

I frowned. "I don't—I don't know what you're..."

"You don't know?" he answered, his voice caustic, challenging as he probed around with me, toying with what he already knew and what he did not. Finally, for the first time since I entered the room, he turned to me, letting emeralds and obsidians collide. "Really?"

His eyes were just as cutting.

"By the way, your friend says 'hi'." I froze, a single name subconsciously materializing in the back of my head.

Rogue.

"What? Did I strike a nerve?"

To my surprise, I found myself scoffing at Sasuke's sarcastic remark. "If you're so sure about all this," I didn't exactly know what I was saying, but what the heck—improvise; that was the initial plan anyway. "Why didn't you tell Kakashi anything?"

"When those guys mentioned your name, I didn't know what to make out of it. I wanted to talk to you first."

Irritation flowed in my veins. "Look," I spoke, daring to step a little closer, "I'm sorry this happened, but I can't—"

"Don't even try to scurry your way out of this."

"I'm not trying _anything_," I said, "This has nothing to do with you."

"Damn it, Sakura!" Startled, I backed away from the suddenly livid Uchiha. "Don't you _dare_ lie to me," he growled, "You don't want me to get involved, but I am now, whether you like it or not!" His arctic eyes pierced through me, rage and confusion so muddled together that it nearly seemed one emotion.

I broke our gaze, mine senselessly falling to the ground to stare at the vinyl floors. "I don't…"

"I have the right to know what's going on."

"I can't."

"Look at me, Sakura." I shook my head, a part of me wanting to cave in, while another stood strong and stubborn. But Sasuke had had enough of my unresponsiveness. A fist thumped loudly and harshly against the already maltreated bedspread.

"I've always been around for you, Sakura," he claimed, desperate, exasperated. "I came when you needed me, and I stayed, no questions asked; I was there when no one else was and I've been _trying, _so fuck, why won't you just _look_ at me?"

But I couldn't—not after all that he'd just said. I was gawking at particularly nothing, my mouth slightly agape and eyes unfocused as I waited for the whirlwind of his words settle in my head. A little voice in me wondered how long I could keep up the singlehanded frontage, and how long I could last trying to unravel this web of tangled cords on my own without breaking down—not very long, I assumed. Already I felt as though I was on the verge of madness, and every death I caused, both directly and not, only drove me further off that cliff.

"Sakura," It was Sasuke's voice that brought me back to reality, back on solid ground from the turbulence inside my brain. The ire once present in his every syllable was now gone, and in its place: a sentiment I could only describe as consolation. Comfort. Gently, he urged, "Tell me what's going on."

Lifting my head, I looked into his eyes, protective and reassuring, as he gazed steadfastly into mine.

"_Tell me,"_ he whispered.

And so I did.

* * *

_**Unknown**_

That stupid little girl.

Bad, bad move. Because of that silly mistake, she needed to be punished. He would make her bleed, again and again and again.

A smirk formed over his curling lips.

_That stupid little girl._

* * *

_Memo: I__ apologize in advance. A big, huge SORRY for in what I'm about to say. Kay, ready? Here goes:_

_I made some **changes **(subtle but significant) in the **Prologue and Chapter 1**. I know it's... amateurish and so not pro, but__ I got a valid reason. Ish. I started IM years ago. YEARS, rewritten twice, cuz, well, all my files got wiped out 2 times, as in all of them. Twice. (technology hates me) I was younger, I sucked, and had many plot holes. __I'm sorry! I mean, could be worse, right? I still have that IM-will-not-be-discontinued promise. =)_

_**Read, Review and Thank You **__for all your support via reviews!_

___A special, love-filled Thank-You for Freezing Rose, who's actually made a fanart of IM. How awesome is that? Check out freezingrose. deviantart. com! [for the geniuses, please exclude the spaces]. Try and identify which scene she drew! Except that'll be pretty easy, since it's the part that gave pretty much y'all heart attacks. x)_

_Humbled and grateful,  
Keelah_


	39. The Hardcopy

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_I aimed the arrow at the icon on the corner of the screen, and the miniature copier glowed._

_For once in a very long time, it felt like I was finally doing something right._

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY EIGHT  
**__**The Hardcopy**_

"Sasuke?"

How long I'd been standing in the midst of a teeming cloud of disquiet, I did not know. In the languid ambiance of the hospital room, all sounds seemed hushed to absolute nothingness (in fact, it was so quiet that I heard the relentless, impracticable hum that always came hand in hand with too much silence) and all movements, frozen to utter stillness. It was as if time had somehow broken the laws of physics and stopped on its own accord, intolerably prolonging the moment as I waited for Sasuke to speak, react, blink, breathe—_anything_.

Not unlike the past few minutes, against my inner wishes, he did not make a sound, did not even as little as bat an eyelid or take in the smallest amount of air, as though he'd solidified to stone halfway through my hour-long narrative and only now as I finished did I realize I was really talking to no one.

Maybe he'd fallen asleep—with his eyes open and face scrunched into a concentrated frown, his entire body rigid and fingers stringently clenching a fistful of the coverlet. It was possible to snooze in such position, wasn't it?

"Sasuke," I hissed, desperate as the wait began to chip away at my courage. "Say something."

"You killed Karin?"

I jolted, stunned as it hadn't been the kind of response I was expecting. His voice brimmed with incredulity and his eyes, as I dared to look up at them, flashed with condemnation, crimson flecks swivelling, barely indiscernible, against a pool of black. I stiffened, suddenly horror-struck at the ill-tempered persona that had taken over Sasuke's being; he seemed almost... _sinister_.

"N-_no_, it wasn't like that," I refuted, though the sharpness, the harsh truth, of his words had cut me more than I let on. "I didn't—"

"But you _told _him to kill her?"

Frantic, I shook my head. "No, well, yes, but..." This was certainly not how I pictured this moment would unfold. I thought Sasuke would be an utmost sceptic, but I never expected him to believe everything and then turn it all against me. For a moment, the possibility of his reacting with rage had slipped off my mind, but I supposed that's what happened when things weren't too thought out, and improvising was made Plan A, B _and _C. An inner voice swore in my head_. _What had I _done_? What had I ever expected out of letting Sasuke in on all this? I'd done nothing now but only jeopardized his life; even more so than I already have.

"Haven't you been listening? It isn't that simple. He _made _me! There was nothing—I couldn't...!"

"You have no idea how much I hate you right now."

I choked. The sentence, all of its eleven words, struggled to clear in my head, as though I knew exactly what Sasuke meant yet their meaning refused to register. For once, it was not me accusing Sasuke, but the other way around and, to my horror and dismay, he was right. I turned away, putting out of sight the tears that distorted the corners of my vision, but regardless of how much I squinted, or kept them back from falling, the salty beads of moisture trickled down my cheek. My lips trembled.

The signs of breakdown were my cue to leave; I didn't want to bawl my eyes out in front of Sasuke, and I was obviously no longer welcomed here. I turned my heel and headed for the door.

"You have to tell Kakashi."

I whipped right back around, eyes widening through an unclear haze of teardrops. "_No_!"

A look of bewilderment materialized on his face at my outburst. "Why the hell not?"

"Didn't you hear _anything_ I said? No one can know, _especially_ the police," I said, trying to make him understand the gravity of my words. "He already hurt _you_. I can't let the Rogue hurt anyone else I care about. He'll kill the cops right off the bat, then kill my friends, family... and then he'll kill me."

Disdainfully, he snickered. "So what about the other people dying in your place? Did they ever cross your mind, or were you too consumed in your selfishness that you didn't even consider the sake of others?"

"What—_no!_" I cried out, flabbergasted that he'd even suggest such a thing. "There isn't _anyone_ more aware of the consequences than I am, trust me. But if I open my mouth, _more_ people die. I have to deal with this myself and not drag anyone else along. I'm taking care of it. I'll figure it out."

"Figure it out?" He scuffed abrasively, throwing a glare of hatred at my direction. "I just lost two of my friends because you took too long 'figuring it out'. How many more lives are you willing to sacrifice before you _figure it out_?"

"You think this is easy for me? I'm _trying_, Sasuke," I half-screamed at him, desperate for him to understand, exasperated, aggravated at the cutting truth of his words. "You can't accuse me like this when you have no idea just how much he's tied my hands and clamped my lips. I can't do anything; say anything, without him knowing my every move, my every word! You don't get it. This isn't fair."

"_Fair? _Some skinny little brat just got two of my closest friends killed and I'm supposed to be _fair?_" He paused, looked at me down and up, and allowed a chuckle of disbelief to escape his mouth. He shook his head, as if realization had recently struck him. "Jesus, you don't even care, do you? This is all fun and games for you, so long as you're not the one getting hurt."

I gawked, feeling a flare-up fizz and effervesce within me, pushing for release.

"_Fun?"_ I hissed at him. "You think I have _fun?_ Sasuke, every day I'm under the watch of a psychopath who can slit my throat at any moment; I feel eyes everywhere I go; and nowhere, not even my own home, is safe anymore. I have five dead bodies haunting my conscience at night, one of them I _saw _with my own eyes, another was a little girl, and all of which I got pictures for as a 'souvenir'."

A shudder crawled up my spine at the reminder. "I can't go to the cops, I can't tell anyone without endangering them; and now the only person left that I _thought_ I could trust hates me and thinks I'm a murderer. You think I'm having _fun_?"

With a sob, I whispered, _"Damn it, Sasuke," _and brought a hand up to massage my aching forehead. I hadn't even noticed till then that I was breathing quite heavily, the rush still fresh in my veins from the verbal eruption. I didn't look up to see how Sasuke had reacted, or to make sure he was even listening at all; at the moment, I didn't care, not anymore. I wanted to get it all out.

"I _tried_, okay?" I muttered underneath my breath, knowing that in the muted room he could hear me clearly; "And I guess I failed. Horribly. I couldn't stop him."

No response; no sound of movement; nothing.

Calming all my nerves, I shut my eyes and heaved a deep, long sigh. Slowly, little by little, I looked over at Sasuke.

I guess a part of me had wanted him to react as he had all those other times I needed him. I wanted him to tell me that it would be okay, that he was here to stay, that we'd find a way out of this mess—I longed for the unconditional calmness and comfort he'd always offered before, no matter how strange or unexpected.

But he didn't stir. He wasn't even looking at me, but out the window towards the rain that had gone from sprinkles to downpour in a span of about sixty minutes. Outside the storm roared, the sky momentarily glowing as jagged streaks of lightning sliced through the darkness. Sasuke had blocked me out to stare at the wonders of raindrops as they fell to the ground, pulled by the gravitational force of the earth—everything I'd said to him was irrelevant.

Defeated and rejected, as inaudibly as I'd entered this room, I whirled around and made my way to the exit. As my hand touched the silver knob, I glanced over for a last look at Sasuke.

The picture was exactly the same as it was when I came in; Sasuke was seated at the heart of his neutral surroundings, blending in perfectly with the rest of the pallor...just as immobile and just as lifeless. There was one last thing I needed to say before I go; softly, nearly inaudible, I murmured my unheard, unnoticed apology.

But the pallid portrait remained unaffected.

Compelled by my own gravity of remorse, I turned away, walked through the threshold and closed the door behind me.

* * *

"So this is what you do in the weekends."

I jumped, but only a little, as if my nerves were as just exhausted as the rest of me, too worn out to enact a proper reaction. Edginess officially took too much energy. I looked up and found someone moving towards where I was in a corner of the small restaurant. Clad in a bulky rain jacket and sportswear sweats, Sai made his way to my table and slid into the chair across from me. A classic smile adorned his face from cheek to cheek. "Sitting alone in an eatery with a cheesecake. How's that going for you?"

I glanced down at the French-style, strawberry flavoured layer of sweetened, soft cheese and cream. "Horrible."

The downbeat reply initiated a raise of eyebrows from the other party. "That was a joke," Sai recanted, pulling out a sketchpad and a pencil—which I thought was so very typical of him. He thumbed the blank cover and flipped it open, its tattered edges indicating the entity's often usage. "You were supposed to yell at me? That's our drill, remember?"

My head nodded without me having to think about it, eyes still downcast upon the swirls of crystallized fruit bright red against the white vanilla. I jammed the fork into the eye-appealing dessert, deliberately ruining its appetizing design.

"You okay?"

I nodded again, my actions most likely contradicting my response as I gruffly munched on the blameless food-serving. I, on the other hand, was not so innocent. No. My hands, though invisible in plain sight, were drenched in blood as red as the syrup that coated the dessert before me.

With the standard blue drawing pencil in between his fingers, Sai sent me a stare, long and intent, before elegantly stroking graphite onto paper. "You look a little...off."

But of course, that had been my reason of coming here in the first place. Dad had quickly caught the gloomy amendment in my voice when he called to check up on me only an hour ago. Ino had sent me a text message, a cursory "**MOVIES AT H'S 2NYT**" that woke me up and kept me from sleeping in till way past noon, after a restless and guilt-ridden night. "H" stood for Hinata, just as "I" stood for Ino and "T" for Ten-Ten, shortened nicknames that Ino had come up with out of languor. The one-letter monikers stuck, and ever since freshman year we became S, H, I and T. Put our initials together and we formed quite an interesting word, one that described exactly what I felt like at the moment.

The thought of not going had crossed my mind, but knowing Ino, my nonattendance would only trigger a dozen follow-up questions. To avoid that situation, I replied a just-as-brief **K**. My lack of response and absent enthusiasm still showed through the single letter apparently, and Ino read me like an open gossip magazine. Like my Dad, and currently Sai, she immediately noticed how something about me today was _off._

Faking the zeal required a great deal of effort, so after Ino's text and my father's unexpected phone call, I'd given up and decided for an afternoon getaway. An aimless stroll along the city of Konoha eventually led me to a small, quiet bistro allayed in a corner of two unpopulated streets, wedged between an ancient carpet depot and a flowing bridal store.

The place was covered in russet paint and warm burgundy drapes, while intricate abstracts and paintings hung on every wall. The aroma of caffeine, crêpes and pastries was discernible in the room, and a soft melody of slow acoustic rock played in the background. The place was undisturbed by mainstream commercial rush and wide franchise, away from the traffic-filled roads and provided both comfort songs and comfort food. As it was, an inconspicuous corner in a little bistro turned out to be a great place to mope around and feel sorry for myself.

"I'm okay," I lied anyway. "What are you doing here?"

"I haven't seen you around lately." Sai said, "We've been spending more time in workshops back in the rec. center than in the Academy."

"Oh. I see," I remarked awkwardly, as though I'd lost my social skills along with my thinning vivacity. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"I didn't." He shrugged. "I come here to draw."

I sighed, used to his imprecision. Between us, a moment of silence took over as a certain, unavoidable query crossed my mind. At the outset, I scolded myself for even thinking of asking such a thing, when the purpose of my coming here was to put out of mind that subject. All the same, I found myself asking anyway, quickly throwing the inner battle to waste. "Hey...Sai?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you happen to know how Sasuke is?"

He gazed at me in a strange way, before comprehension dawned like daybreak in his usually clueless eyes. "So that's what this is about? You're upset over _Uchiha_?"

"What? No," I retorted incredulously, "I don't know what you mean by that."

"I wouldn't worry too much," he drawled. "The guy's doing fine; he's recovering pretty quickly."

"Really?" Considering that I was where I was at the present moment to distract myself from remembering a particular disastrous argument that had taken place only yesterday with a particular someone, and the fact that the topic of the present conversation was that very person, basically went to show how much of an epic fail this escapade really was. "I mean—whatever, I guess." Nice recover, Haruno.

"They're letting him out today," Sai informed anyway, seeing right through my diaphanous mask of unconcern. "I still don't understand why you bother with him."

"Of course you don't," I allowed myself to grin—solitude hadn't exactly bettered my vibes, and since Sai wasn't leaving anytime soon, I might as well enjoy his unexpected company. "It's not like I've ever seen you care about anything or anyone." Much to my surprise, he actually nodded, agreeing with me. He always seemed so clueless, so free of care. So innocently dense it sometimes bordered on childish and cute.

"It's called concern, Sai," I goaded him, "You've never felt sympathy for others?"

"I feel no such thing."

"Care? Excitement! Sorrow, joy, guilt and love?"

"Doesn't ring any bells."

I slumped back into my seat, crushed. "You are emotionally constipated."

"Thank you. I don't know why my inability to _defecate_ emotion disappoints you so much."

"Defecate? That's a gross metaphor." I groaned at Sai's uncomfortable forthrightness. "Anyway, there has to be one thing you care about; your dream... a passion."

For a while, he was quiet. "I... do have _one_."

At this, my ears perked up, the feeling of victory uplifting my spirits. "Which is?" He responded by staring at me. Initially I thought he was waiting until I figured it out on my own, but after a few seconds, he let his eyes drop to the notepad on his lap. I smiled, the small action automatically answering my own inquiry. _Art _was his passion, perhaps the only thing he cared about.

"What are you drawing?"

"You."

"Really?" I exclaimed, shocked but impressed. "How's it looking so far?"

His eyes fixed onto the sketchbook, pondering over the illustration that I couldn't see. "Well—you're still pretty ugly."

His head snapped up as a piece of cheesecake flew across the table and splattered onto his cheek. Narrowed slits glared at me as he whipped off the cream with a napkin. "Very mature."

"I don't believe you," I asserted haughtily.

"You don't believe you're mature? I agree with you completely. Or do you not believe that you're an ugly hag? Because then I'd have to disagree—"

"No, not _that,_" I snapped, "The whole no-emotion thing. I think it's all a mask."

He leaned back into the chair, his eyes leaving the sketch to meet mine. "You got me all figured out, don't you?"

"Not entirely. But there's something more beneath the mask," I drawled, loosing myself into his dark pools, trying to decipher what lay beneath the depthless black waters. "You're not as indifferent as you make yourself seem to be. Inside, you're this nice, mushy, romantic—"

A playful, sarcastic smile formed across his lips. "You have no proof of that."

I grinned back. "Right, so I'll just have to—" _Proof_.

That was it.

No protracted storytelling or repetitive persuasion could describe what truly came about in Cyberspace, how things had unfolded and jumbled out of my control, as exactly and accurately as a hardcopy evidence.

I deserved the cold shoulder, but I wouldn't let _him_ judge me without fully understanding my side of the story.

I wasn't a killer. I hadn't given those names of my own voluntary accord.

And I would make him see that.

"I have to go," I said declared out of the blue, getting to my feet as I fumbled for my wallet. "I just remembered I have some errands..."

"I got this," he responded, jerking his head towards the half-eaten food on the table.

"No, it's fine. I can—"

"Hey," Sai interrupted, pulling out a ten from his back pocket. "Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"I thought I was nice, mushy and romantic?" Despite my glare, he locked his gaze with mine and tilted his head, as if he found it entertaining that I was so hesitant to leave him with the bill. "Yeah, I'm sure. Go."

"Okay..." was all my far-flung brain could come up with as a reply. Picking up my handbag and coat, I started for the bistro's exit, partly reluctant yet all at once raring to go. "Uh, thanks a lot. I'll see you around?"

Sai glimpse down at the sketchpad between his hands. His stare lingered on the unseen drawing.

And then, he looked up and grinned. "Definitely."

* * *

The front door slammed open.

I kicked off my sneakers, waterlogged by the loads of puddles I'd inadvertently stepped on while I ran all the way home, my only aim being to get there as quickly as possible, never mind my shoes. Small and plentiful accumulations of water scattered all over the streets from the unrelenting rain, and it took too long to make my way around each of them.

Briskly, I flew up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and burst into my room. Given that the computer was no less than asleep, I only had to move the mouse to reactivate it. As I waited for the processor to fully load, I raised my heels to reach the shelf suspended just above my eyelevel.

Tugging the guard open, I ran a hand across the sheet feeder to check that a sufficient mass of papers were in place. Then I switched on the peripheral and fell into my seat before the monitor.

I lay my hand over the polished black mouse, compelled by instinct as I drew the pointer towards the small insignia of a blue globule-esque human, located on the lower, right-hand corner of the desktop. Without a moment's hesitation, I pressed my finger down and clicked it.

My hands soared across the keyboard, synchronized with speed, my fingertips pushing down on selected letters and numbers. Correctly filling in the ID and Password boxes, I jammed _Enter._

In the same moment, a number of News Today windows and Offline Messages popped up, all of which I paid no attention to. I had my mind set on only one objective this afternoon.

**File **

I've already told Sasuke everything, squeezed out every bit of information I had and vomited it out within an hour-long speech in one seating.

**View Message Archive**

But there was one other thing left that he hadn't yet heard about or seen, something that would make him understand the entirety of the situation, the bounds tying my hands and the threads shutting my lips.

**Document**

And this, I would show him.

I aimed the tip of the arrow at the icon on the top, left corner of the screen. The miniature copier glowed with an orange highlight. Beside me the speakers trilled, emitting a high-pitched sound in fraught of demand for attention.

**Rogue: I can see what you're doing**

I peered out the broad windowpane of my room. The sidewalk was clear of amblers and the streets left bare from the dearth of both parked and passing vehicles. Only the abiotic wind and endless fall of precipitation transpired outdoors in the middle of autumn. Not a single life-form was in sight.

**Rogue: Are you sure you want to do this? Do you purposely anger me, Sakura?**

In spite of this, as I turned back to the computer screen, a pair of eyes locked and clenched all around me, and I gasped, almost feeling him in the same room. His sneer penetrated through me like a dagger, sharp with threat and intimidation.

I dismissed the feeling, moving the pointer on the desktop.

**Select All**

It took a great deal of courage to disregard the watchful gaze that drilled itself into the back of my head. For once in a very long time, as the past few weeks seemed to have doubled by the dozen, it felt like I was finally doing something right.

**OK**

I shook off the uncanny sensation of predatory eyes that clamped onto my every move and glanced up at the machine initiating on the shelf of my desk. A current of triumph streamed through my blood as I watched it simultaneously suck in blank pieces of paper, and cast out the same sheets whose every inch was now covered in ink and words.

_**Printing...**_

* * *

**Uchiha Sasuke**

He shifted, adjusting himself from the position he'd been in for the past hour or two. The surrounding myriad of pillows, that made him look like a six-year-old playing princess on her fancy, overly cushioned canopy bed, was supposed to ease the pain from his contusions and fractured bones. While the excessive padding worked, it also undeniably struck a blow of humiliation on his ego.

Sasuke flinched, partly from the reminder of his ebbing self-esteem and partly from the stinging feeling that set off in his lungs. One of his ribs had come dangerously close to piercing the respiration organ—something that could have killed him instantly, according to the Kakashi.

It had been his idea, his insistency, to be discharged from the hospital this late afternoon, the earliest the doctors would allow him to leave. The thought of staying in for another night in that god-forsaken room was more torture than the unyielding throbbing of his ribs and shoulder. In the room of white, minutes ticked by unbelievably slow, each second ramming him to the brink of psychosis. Plus, the needle punctured into his hand and the wired junctions that connected his body, with unknown chemicals and machines that never once stopped beeping, made him feel weakened, like they were drugging him or something.

Kakashi had explained to him that the anaesthesia was essential, and he in turn explained to the old man that Uchiha Sasuke did not need wimpy painkillers.

He didn't regret getting out of the infirmary, but what he did want to slap himself for was refusing the sedatives, because the moment they were drawn from him, his ribs hurt like _hell_, the cut in his forehead felt deeper than ever, his shoulder throbbed and his arm became immovable with pain. But it was tolerable, at least compared to the torment he'd had to go through a few nights ago.

Sasuke reallocated for a second time, discomfort clinging onto him whichever way he sat or lounged. Placing his arms on either side of him, he pushed himself up, feeling his legs prickled by a thousand spines, the blood beginning to circulate back in his limbs after a long while of immobility.

"_Sasuke!"_

Startled, Sasuke's hand slipped, fortuitously exerting too much weight on his bad arm. Gritting his teeth, he muffled what was about to be a cry of pain and let out instead a frustrated groan, cursing repeatedly in his head. Shikamaru appeared from kitchen at the same instant, coming into the room with a can of pop in one hand and a nine-by-twelve inch envelope in the other. The brunette halted in his tracks as soon as he became aware of the scowling, wheezing Uchiha.

He blinked consequently. "What's wrong with _you_?"

"Nothing," Sasuke bit out, highly ticked as he gripped the cushions while the pain subsided. "What do you want?"

"Package. For you." The genius's lethargy never failed to show in his voice; he waved the packet slothfully in the air before tossing it horizontally like a Frisbee. As a reflex, Sasuke stretched out and caught the object with ease in his hand, snubbing the pesky twinge of soreness at the side of his torso.

"Sakura dropped it off earlier, just a few minutes before you got home."

He looked up, ears suddenly on wide alert. Before the question escaped his throat, Shikamaru cut off, "She didn't say anything; left right away."

A frown settled upon Sasuke's features, and it was one of the few expressions gracing his face that were not associated with his pounding injuries. The other day's dispute was still fresh in his mind, as though the ruinous quarrel only transpired a few minutes ago. He'd reacted excessively, he knew, but how else was he supposed to respond? At that moment, all that filled his mind after Sakura's admission were Suigetsu and Karin. Not for a moment did he even consider the girl that had been standing in front of him.

He balanced the entity in his hand, its weight heavier and width much broader than the standard. Scanning the area, he saw that Shikamaru had left him alone, and other than his own presence, the living room was unoccupied. Satisfied, his gaze fell back upon the package. In one swift motion, Sasuke slipped his finger beneath the flap and ripped it open.

From inside he pulled out a thick stack of documents; nothing made sense to him for the first few seconds, but as time ticked by he began to realize just what it was that he had in his hands. He sat, returning back to immobility, as he thoroughly read through the compilation, page after page...

**|Message Archive|**

**Page 1 of 14**

**Rogue (09/14 MONDAY 08:58:39 PM): Do you want to play a game?**

**lilpinkchiq (09/14 MONDAY 09:04:57 PM): umm... Who are you?**

**Rogue (09/14 MONDAY 09:05:16 PM): Who I am doesn't matter...**

* * *

_Memo: Remember that very 1st convo? Way back when? lol_

_Hectic times a'coming again! It's easy to demand a quick update, but writing it? Takes a lot of hard work. My co-authors out there know what I'm talking about. Dooon't worry, it's not a month-long wait or anything. And no, I'm not slacking off. In between driver's ed, volunteer work, job hunting, university research, a social life (and, well, sleeping) I still write 2500+ words per day (except for weekends). So, no "move your freaking **lazy **ass" remarks, okay? Or I just might explode. x)_

_BUT, you know, there's always a chance I'll give a quick-update treat, if it suddenly rains with reviews (looks up at the sky expectantly) lol_

_**Read, Review and Thank You! **I really appreciate the comments. A little feeedback goes a long way. =) Thanks for all the patience and consideration!_

_Planning to burn all these "BACK TO SCHOOL" signs,  
__Keelah_


	40. Digging Deeper

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_Why are we here?"_

"_I figured it'd be a good place to start."_

_My eyes narrowed with a dubious incomprehension. "Start what?"_

"_Looking for the Rogue."_

* * *

_**Chapter THIRTY NINE  
**__**Digging Deeper**_

Despite the omnipresent fear of the Rogue that felt so natural to me now, as though I'd grown accustomed to the idea of him and the noxious threat that came along with his undetectable presence, a huge weight had lifted off my shoulders as soon as I'd dropped off the envelope yesterday afternoon.

I'd sent him the records for the mere reason that instinct had driven me to do so, because it felt so definitely right to finally let out and let known all that I've been struggling to keep in this whole time. I didn't know whether he'd side with me or just the opposite, but the mere fact that he was one less person I'd have to hide everything from came to me as a huge, unpredicted relief.

To be honest, I didn't exactly know what it was I expected out of giving Sasuke a print-out of all my online conversations with the Rogue. Actually, there was no telling whether he would open the package at all, much more read all of fourteen pages of the message archive.

What I _hadn't _expected, though, was to hear my phone trilling at nine o'clock the very next morning, flashing the words **New Text Message (1) **repetitively on the minute screen.

With a prompt click of a finger, the communiqué materialized on the multicoloured display. It was short and to the point, a conciseness that left no room for discussion. The reactions in my head were an assortment of bafflement and disbelief as I gawked at the silver mobile phone, unable to absorb its content and more particularly the unanticipated sender from whom the unanticipated message came.

**From: Sasuke  
**_**9:03AM  
Central Park, by the fountains. Be there.**_

I managed to snap out of my state of bemusement; with a mind now back on earth, I bounded out of bed and headed to the closet. Unintentionally, rummaging through the anarchic heaps of clothes, I dug up certain items I'd long ago buried out of sight and out of mind. A flash of red caught my eye at the very bottom of the pile, and shoving aside the obstructing garments, the four vivid pieces of paper were unearthed to my horror and dismay.

A thought crossed my brain, followed shortly by a groundswell of hesitancy. The idea seemed ridiculous, risky and without reason. Nevertheless, I grabbed the snapshots and shoved them into the pockets of my bag.

* * *

He wasn't very hard to find.

Waiting exactly where he'd said he would be, I recognized Sasuke right away sitting on the marble edge of the grand fountain. The ornamental water feature was the park's pivotal centerpiece, well-liked for its intricate arrangement of glass-walls and sprouting jets of water, mirrored in different hues as it flowed from the top of the stone staircase down to its immediate pools. Sasuke was situated at the center of it all, as out of place as one could be.

The only factor that ruined the vista's appeal was the overcast skies that loomed in the backdrop, threatening downpour yet again. It was one of those few autumnal days where the rain stopped for a brief moment, for an hour as a minimum and a week at most; but all the same, this morning wasn't what I would deem ideal for a stroll in the park. The grass was wet, muddy in some places, and the air unsurprisingly cold. Only a few odd people who went to the park during the margins of fall and winter dotted the green area, making it that much easier to spot him.

For the same reasons, it didn't take him long to catch sight of me either. Even as I stood idiotically at the very edge of the park on the other side of the commons, stalling for time to gather enough courage, Sasuke managed, in some way, to sense my being there. He turned his head towards me and locked his eyes with mine.

Without the slightest chance of backing out now that he'd noticed me, I took in a deep breath and made my way toward him.

His gaze never lifted off me as I headed en route of where he sat, both elbows resting on his knees, fingers interweaved. Motionlessly, soundlessly, he watched as I closed the distance that stretched between us, with a look so void of expression he could've been an added statue to the showpiece of the fountain behind him.

Sasuke's entire right arm was mummified, shrouded in a bandage that ran from his wrist and disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt. His cheek was still bruised, the bluish shade intermixing with deep purple, reminding me of the time I'd punched him in the face. I fought the out-of-place, ill-fitting smile that urged to show on my lips. The fact that he was seated suggested that he was too tired to remain on his feet, and though no cast, nor crutches, were in sight, I knew he still found it difficult to move around.

I was pretty sure he wasn't well enough to be out and about, especially in this condition, and I knew he knew that. Yet here he was, the classically stubborn Uchiha.

Sasuke sized me up, scanning from tip to toe as he took in my tousled hair, still stringy and damp from the shower I'd recently rushed through, the ordinary black jeans and the thin chocolate cardigan I'd carelessly worn over a white tank top, and the everyday flip-flops that welcomed the bitter air to extract all sensation from my toes.

The muddled, slapdash apparel wasn't suited for a late November morning as much as it was for a midsummer night, but it was all I could throw together in haste to get here. He probably thought I looked more of a mess than he did.

"Did I wake you up?" His tone was detached and uncaring, frigid as the air around us.

Parking myself a foot away, I shrugged, hesitant to precede any closer. "No."

The hard gaze of his eyes told me he saw through the lie. "Have you eaten?"

I gave another indistinct gesture, on the inside wondering why he was asking such questions, and why he would even care to begin with. "I'm not hungry."

"Here." He looked straight ahead as he did what he did next: which was to hand me a small-sized cup of coffee. It hovered in the space above my lap as he waited for me to accept the offer.

"Uh," I pronounced unsurely, "I don't really drink coff—"

"It's hot chocolate," Sasuke corrected, even though the cardboard sleeve clearly displayed a motif of coffee cup silhouettes. I kept my arms folded close to my body, hanging on to the warmth that was quickly seeping through the fine fabric of my useless cardigan. I was freezing. And as if reading my mind, or noticing my evident shivers, he added, "It'll warm you up."

"That's...that's okay," I stuttered, in part because of the cold and the other consumed with embarrassment, astounded by the Uchiha's strange yet cold considerateness. "I'm fine."

He turned his head to look at me then, and on his lips I saw amusement, but not, strangely, in his eyes. His gaze was strong and steady on mine, still holding in them the rigidity I'd met back in the hospital room.

"Sakura," he said. "Just take it."

So I did.

Upon contact, heat quickly transferred from the beverage, through the hot cup jacket and to my sub-zero hands, spreading warmth back into my veins and sensitivity into my fingers. I glued my eyes onto the beverage and took a small sip. The fluid stung my tongue and burned down my throat like acid, but in beneficial means. Unconsciously, the trembling stopped.

Mute was the keyword to the rest of our conversation.

I didn't know whether he was waiting for me to finish the hot drink, or waiting for me to speak up, but if it was the latter then he was out of luck, because I was not going to be the one to go first. He was the one who called me down to meet him here, and I wasn't about to strain my brain coming up of ways to start off this dead dialogue. Having already said all there was to say on my part, I remained silent and left him with the harder role while I lost myself in the waters behind us, watching it sinuously ebb and flow.

"I don't hate you," Sasuke uttered out of the blue, his voice low and subtle, countenance still pinched with constrained emotions. "And I don't think you're a killer."

My own desperate, yelling voice came back to me, the words I'd thrown at him in the hospital room two days ago:

_...And now the only person left that I thought I could trust hates me and thinks I'm a murderer!_

Though I faced the fountain, I felt his eyes strong and unwavering upon me, and it was for that reason that I could not bring myself to look up. I couldn't meet his gaze and not remember the people that have been so violently ripped from him because of me. I couldn't overlook the loss in his eyes as he juggled with the rage and hatred and sorrow. His obsidian orbs scorched my skin, but I willed myself to remain motionless, welcoming in the torture and discomfort that I so deserved.

A sigh droned next to me.

"Would you look at me please?" came his voice, "You're making me feel like I'm not even here."

I let my eyes fall upon his.

"Thank you."

I kept my mouth shut, bracing myself for a tirade of accusations, of statements of contempt, yet the motion of silence only withdrew another sigh from Sasuke's lips. He looked tired, lost, conflicted.

"I didn't mean it," he whispered. "When I said I hated you, I didn't—I was angry, so angry at you. I still am, but..."

"I deserved it."

"No. You didn't, you don't."

"I'm sorry," I murmured, unable to fix a steadfast gaze toward him. _Coward_, a voice hissed. I couldn't even look at him in the eye, even when it was the least I could do. "About everything. About Karin."

Sasuke's eyes flashed with something I couldn't read, perhaps shock, perhaps grief. Afraid the sentiment would turn into rage or resentment, just as it had the last time, I blurted, "I don't know what came over me—fear, I guess, desperation. Her name just came to me and I needed to choose someone quick because my parents were right downstairs, and he would kill them if I even as much as hesitate. She was the first person I thought of, because you may not have noticed, but she was a bitch to me, but I never _hated_ her, and _god_, I never wanted her to die Sasuke, I swear. I never meant to put her in danger, and if I'd known just how much she meant to you then I never would have..."

"Sakura," he stopped me.

Looking into his eyes, I was stunned to see what almost seemed and felt like empathy, the obsidian orbs emitting a feeling of solace that effectively shut me up and calmed my nerves.

"Stop. Don't."

_Don't try to justify what you've done. Don't even think your apologies will make a difference._

A tightening knot formed in my throat, giving little way to the sob that fought to escape me. But before I could begin to cry in front of him, like a pathetic being that allowed her mistakes to spin this much out of control, I heard his utterance, barely audible yet soothing, encompassing.

"Don't blame yourself."

I huffed, knowing that I was already deep and sinking in a sea of blame, yet the lack of fury in his words shocked me. My eyes travelled up his bandaged arm, past his neck, drowning into pools of black.

"Too late," I whispered.

He shook his head, and for one fleeting moment, raised his arm. His hand hung between us as it suddenly halted in midair, inches away from taking mine. And then, as if logic had caught up to instincts, he drew back, taking the warmth and comfort of his palm with him, what might have been lingering thickly in the distance that held us apart.

Something smacked onto the marble space flanked by the two of us, breaking our reverie. A brown-orange envelope. "When did these start?" he asked, the warmth gone from his intonation.

"Weeks ago," I told him, "Six, maybe seven."

"You kept on without telling anyone for _that_ long?"

"It was only until two or three weeks ago that he started making threats, that our... game, started. Then it spun out of control."

"I think it was already out of control the moment you replied to him."

I flinched. "I didn't know that. Not at the time."

"This guy... Rogue. Why is he doing this? Why you?"

"It's... a sick entertainment to him," I explained. "At first it was this... mugging that I saw. He wanted to keep me quiet, and I was, but when he kept going I realized it wasn't even about that anymore. Like my fear gave him fuel, and suddenly he wasn't interested in just my silence anymore. He was fixated with me... and this... gruesome child's game we play."

"You should've told someone." Sasuke was frowning, his forehead deeply indented with lines of confusion and antagonism. "You should've told _me_."

"I didn't want to drag anyone else into what was my fault," I hissed at him. "If I told them, I'd be killing them. I didn't want to harm anyone like that; I didn't want to harm _you_ like that."

"And yet it happened anyway, right?"

I lowered my eyes, ashamed. "Sasuke..."

"That night, after I walked you to the bus stop," he interrupted. "Someone grabbed me from behind and slammed my head against a lamppost—or at least that's what I remember. After an impact like that, it's kinda hard to think."

He shook his head, unconsciously touching the bandage wrapped around it, reminiscing in the moment.

"Anyway, by the time I got my head together they already had my arms restrained. That's when they beat me up pretty bad. The other guy had a weapon, some kind of metal on his glove that he struck me with. Hurt like hell; the cut wouldn't stop bleeding. The one restraining me kept twisting my arm, until he just about dislocated my shoulder. And then—"

He stopped dead at the sight of me, becoming aware of the horrified look that I, in all likelihood, had portrayed manifestly on my face. "Right," he swiftly backtracked. "I should have probably given you the G-rated version."

"I'm sorry," I murmured to him, the guilt and regret weighing at the tone of my statement. "For having dragged you into this, I'm sorry."

"These guys," he said. "They mean serious business, huh?" I nodded my head imperceptibly, though I knew he didn't need my affirmation. He sighed, running a hand, the one with the better arm, through his ebony locks, shaking them from his forehead.

I bit my lip. "If I'd known you'd get hurt, I would have—"

"Whatever," he growled, the acidic response cutting right through me. "Better me they hurt I guess, instead of you."

Taken aback, I stilled and stared at him, the surprise momentarily putting aside all unpleasant emotions, though before the comforting effect of his words fully relayed its upshot, a harder, heavier bombshell struck me in the gut, pounded from the back of my skull—" '_These _guys'? 'They'? You're making a mistake, Sasuke. There's only one. Rogue."

"No, one held me back while another attacked." Sasuke scoffed. "Wimpy way to go about it, if you ask me."

But it didn't make sense to me. Why were there two of them? How could the Rogue duplicate all of a sudden when all this time there was only _one _of him?

Or so I've been fooled to think all this time.

"The guy with the blade," Sasuke remarked. "He seemed older; the way he spoke, his figure...in his twenties, thirties, maybe."

My head swung from side to side. "But the Rogue, he watches me in school. He says I know him. What about the other guy?" I asked. Keenness barefaced in my every word, hoping to reveal at least a smidgen of fact about his anonymity, yet my hopes were all but destroyed when Sasuke gave a mere shrug and a vague, unhelpful response.

"He looked my height, I guess. I don't know. I didn't really see him. It was dark, and..."

"And?" I urged on, waiting with a thinning patience whilst I watched uncertainty traverse over his face.

"When they were talking, about you..." Sasuke began, eyebrows scrunched in deep thought and deliberation. "His voice sounded familiar."

"Maybe you've heard him from some place before. School, maybe—what?" I blurted upon sensing the tentative features of Sasuke's face, confoundedness sprayed over his expression as though there was something he couldn't quite comprehend.

"There was something about him."

I blinked, unsure of how to take his statement. "Something like what?"

"I don't know," he concluded again. It sounded like the lie he'd given Kakashi about hearing and seeing nothing wasn't too far off the truth, after all. "They way he spoke, he sounded... _blank_."

I waited for him to go on. "Is that like, fill-in-the-blanks and I'm supposed to...?"

"No, as in blank," he stressed. "Empty. Like he was robot. The other guy, he was enjoying it. He was mocking me. But this guy... was just _nothing_. I can't put a finger on it."

Mulling over his description, I found myself reflexively shuddering. In the past weeks I'd gradually formed a cerebral image of the Rogue, and in my head he was ominous and diabolical, openly sadistic and psychologically unstable, but it never occurred to me to conceive of him as someone apathetic, someone unfeeling, someone... as Sasuke had said, so _blank_—the thought of him, pitiless and heartless, made everything much worse.

"_That's him_," I whispered.

A shiver coursed down my spine as the bitter wind whipped around us, clutching onto my body like an uncanny skeletal claw. Suddenly I was cold again, as if the thought of the Rogue had drained away the comfort and calmness from my being, replacing it with an edgy sensation that smothered me, a sinister ambiance enfolding into my personal space in the form of icy currents of air.

I pulled myself into an embrace, hoping to somehow preserve the remaining warmth within me and keep out the cold that forced its way in—hearing my own teeth chattering however, I knew the attempt were futile.

"Let's go," Sasuke pronounced, arising; I looked up at him, bemused.

"Where?"

Gone was the gravity in his gaze, and just like that the seriousness of the situation had uplifted. In its place, a mix of pity and humour glinted in amidst his sleek obsidians, making fun of me with a single stare

"You're gonna freaking turn into ice," he said, pulling me to my feet. "We should get you somewhere warm."

* * *

The Konohagakure Public Library.

That was Sasuke's idea of warm.

I would've expected no less than a snug coffee house with king-size sofas that we could lounge around in, or the mall with its all-pervading centralized heaters, but instead Sasuke had brought me to a highly structured building that occupied an entire city block smack in the center of downtown Konoha. I didn't mind the place so much; I wasn't allergic to books as a lot of others my age, but it did not quite meet my expectations when it came to heating systems.

The Victorian-esque edifice was large enough to encompass a government office in its upper floors, daycare services in the east wing, cuisine facilities, a rooftop garden and an immediate piazza that bordered around the ground level, including grand stairway entrances and a vast parking lot. Being the central branch, it was the largest of the libraries found within the metropolis—that been said, warming up such a building was not exactly simple, and so far ineffective. The library held a tepid atmosphere; not unbearably cold, but shiver-inducing nonetheless. It was never quite warm enough, skylight ceiling absorbing sufficient light but no adequate amount of thermal energy.

Sasuke and I made our way past the automatic sliding doors and towards the heart of the high-rise, where the actual library was located. A collection of books, newspapers and disks decorated the scenery in dull abundance, businessmen in tuxedos and women in black high-heels dotted the place, some hunched over their laptops and others in deep conversation—over time, due to its location in the dead center of companies and commercial corporations, the area had become a popular go-to for business meetings and lunch breaks.

After many corridors and winding flights of stairs, Sasuke stopped in his tracks. I halted along with him, taking in the circular tables strewn across my surroundings and the lines of idle computers pleasantly bordering the room. The study area was a glass covered balcony that occupied much of the median floors and encased about the library, overlooking the columns of shelves and elderly bookcases on the story below. He slumped on one of the chairs and motioned me to do the same.

As I settled into the cushioned seat across from him, I couldn't contain my puzzlement any longer. "Why are we here?" I asked, "This place isn't exactly famous for its heaters."

"It's got records of everything and everyone, addresses and phonebooks," Sasuke riposted. "I figured it'd be a good place to start."

My eyes narrowed with a dubious incomprehension. "Start what?"

"Looking for the Rogue."

"What?" I blathered disbelievingly, "Are you insane? He'll never allow that. He'll kill me and you before we even step out of this building."

"Look, avoiding him hasn't done any good, so maybe it's looking for him that will."

"That'll never happen," I told him, "He's untraceable. I've already tried."

Suddenly he leaned across the tabletop, his face merely inches from mine with proximity too close and a stare too intense for ease. Just as I shifted away, the look in his eyes turned into that of arrogant amusement (pleased at my discomfort) as he flaunted at me a familiar-looking mobile phone. A second later I realized it was mine. He had pulled it out of my pocket without me noticing.

He sat back down and fiddled with the cellular, subsequently turning the screen at my direction. I glanced at the display.

**Call Records  
****8 Missed Calls  
****R (Unknown Number)**

"Have you ever tried finding out the real number?" Sasuke inquired.

"It's useless," I shook my head. "The number's not registered, and I've already tried calling back, but I keep getting a machine. It's inactive. That number only exists whenever he uses it, for outgoing calls, not incoming."

Defeated, Sasuke let out an aggravated sigh, sliding the phone back to me. "What about his e-mail address? We can look it up."

"Nothing's on the web. And all his accounts are either completely empty or no longer existing. I tried e-mailing him but it was only sent back to me."

"I know." I sent a questioning expression his way. "He sent me an email, remember? I tried replying, but the address didn't exist." A deliberate pause; I could almost see a bulb alighting in his mind. "Back in the hospital, you told me you saw pictures of you, the night Suigetsu was murdered. Do you still have them?"

"No," I answered, deflating his hopes to disappointment. "I threw them out after I found them in my locker. Besides, how would those help?"

He ran a frustrated hand through his windswept hair, a charming disarray of raven locks. "Jeez, I don't know," Sasuke muttered. "I just thought..."

A veil of wordlessness fell upon us both. I shifted in my seat, its cushions abruptly uncomfortable as edges of prints obtruded from beneath the flap of my bag, reminding me of its presence.

Sasuke caught the sudden outpour of unease. "What?"

At the small sign of hesitation, his eyes quickly thinned into slits, acute and heightened with alertness.

"If you're hiding something, Sakura, I swear, just spill it out."

"The pictures," I divulged, "of the corpses, the ones he took right after every kill... I have them." His eyes drilled expectantly into mine, radiating a look that told me to continue. I swallowed. "I just—I had a feeling you were going to be asking questions, so I brought them, in case..."

"Let me see them," was Sasuke's abrupt demand. His hand was already outstretched, waiting on the table between us. I hesitated. "Give it, Sakura." He ordered. Reluctantly, I reached into my bag, fished out the said photographs and handed them over to Sasuke.

"There isn't one of Suigetsu," I informed him, adding sullenly. "I got to see that one for real."

The instant Sasuke laid his eyes on the surface of the picture, as opposed to looking shocked or aghast, a mask of unresponsiveness shrouded him entirely. His lips pressed into a firm bland line and his body stilled to stone—his reaction was no reaction at all. With eyes empty of any feeling, he observed the grotesque photographs. Detachment, I understood, was the only way to get through each image without getting too sensitive; it was not, after all, for the faint heart.

Courageously, he overturned the print. The photos were chronologically ordered; the first he'd looked at had been Kin. Now flipping to the next in line, the image of a deceased Dosu flashed before his eyes. I waited in anxiety as his eyes thoroughly examined each snapshot. He flipped again. Moegi—the little girl. His eyebrows scrunched slightly, a trace of expression willing to show on his face, but he fought it before the sentiment could appear and again a soulless facade returned.

Sasuke thumbed the edge of the picture, turning it over to see what followed, when his actions immediately halted at the sight of the last photograph—Karin. It was then that his pokerfaced mask crumbled and broke, emotions seeping through the cracks as they revealed themselves on his face. Horror, shock, revulsion, rage, hurt, helplessness and then, a sudden spark of awareness.

He flipped back to the previous photo, and then forth, back and forth, forth and back, studying each one several times over, his eyes scanning in thorough haste. Wonder quickly followed, a what-the-hell kind of sentiment, rapidly concluding the chain of emotion with bafflement and realization.

I blinked, utterly confused and left out of the loop. "What?" I blurted out.

"Have you looked at these?" He asked me and emphasized, "_Closely_?"

"I... looked at them. But they're all a little hard to look at, you know." I replied, "Why?"

"They're all taken in the same place."

"What?" I asked for the second time.

"They're all—" A ring shrilled into the air, interrupting Sasuke. Annoyed, he pulled out from his back pocket what was an aged clam phone. "Here, look." He glided the shots across the table before answering the call. "Yeah?" A muffled shout erupted from the speakers. Turning away, my fingers caught the prints before they slid over the edge.

My orbs of emerald fell upon the blood-covered portraits, the different shades of red burning both my retinas.

With difficulty I was able to look past the gore and perceive what Sasuke was talking about. Overwhelmed, I realized he was right.

"Look, I'm fine," I heard Sasuke say, speaking into the mobile, his voice dripping with irritation.

In the backdrop, behind the bloody carcass that was the subject of the photo, a sharp corner was depicted in the deepest gloom of the shot. The color of brick harmonized greatly with the rest of the red picture. The ground was covered with a blanket of muck and dirt, the walls with unreadable graffiti. In the left side of the scene was a blue shape, impossible to identify as it was blurred with improper focus. I moved on to the next picture and, overlooking the sickening foreground, I recognized a similar milieu. The same grimy environs; the vandalized flat sides of buildings; and the smear of blue—it was clear now, its contours more defined than in the last shot. In the succeeding photo, it was even clearer. It was a trash dumpster.

"I just got some things to do," he explained, exasperated.

The only photograph out of place was Moegi's—the little girl's shot was captured right on scene, in the park where she'd been found dead.

"Oh my god, you're right." I looked up at Sasuke and found his gaze already fixed on me, paying no attention to the voice from his phone. "I've never noticed—I mean, I never really looked past the corpses before." And if course I didn't; after all, it was a little more than difficult to see what was beyond the horrifying, spine-chilling front; it never occurred to me that there was something to look at. "That's a little careless of him, I guess."

"I gotta go. Later." The phone was snapped shut, brusquely ending the conversation. Speaking to me now, he started, "Careless of him, but good for us. The place looks like every other alley in the city. I'm guessing the rundown part of downtown; everything there's made of bricks."

I let out a sigh. "But there's got to be a thousand alleys in Konoha."

He reached out to tap the photographs splayed on the table before me. With a voice of control and determination that brought me a sense of hope, a feeling of stability, he stated,

"Then this is the one we need to find."

* * *

_**Nara Shikamaru**_

"_Yeah?"_

"Kakashi's _furious_!" he screamed into the receiver, deliberately hoping to deafen the troublesome, inflexible, obstinate, egotistical Uchiha. Shikamaru was not only putting across his own annoyance; he was as well channelling Hatake's wrath, which was unleashed on his sorry ass this morning instead of Sasuke's.

"Where the hell are you? You know you're not supposed to be walking around yet. The old man blamed me for letting you out the house. Where the _hell_ did you go?"

No response.

"_Uchiha!"_ he roared, momentarily leaving behind his characteristic slothfulness.

"Look, I'm fine," Sasuke replied, audibly far-flung and mindfully distracted. "I just got some things to do."

A voice that did not belong to either of them rose from a nearby background.

"_Oh my god, you're right."_

He knew the voice and identified it within a tick of time.

Shikamaru groaned, irritated that he'd squandered time and energy on such a ridiculous, typical circumstance that he should have figured out hours ago. Of course Sasuke was with the girl. Where else would he be?

"Some _things_ to do?" the brunette mimicked. "Or some_one_? Geez, I should have known."

"I gotta go." Mentally, he panicked. How in the world would he tell Kakashi that Sasuke was still MIA?

"Hey, wait—!"

"Later." And the line went dead.

Shikamaru glared at the telephone.

_What the hell are those two up to?_

* * *

_Memo: I just watched AIR, and I think I'm really, really dense, cuz it's supposedly really sad, yet I didn't shed a tear, cuz I didn't get it. I just watched it cuz Edward Elric & Tamaki Suoh's VA also voiced the main dude in the show. T,T Sheesh._

_Holy crap, I just got my classes for senior year, and they're all *major* subjects. What the heck was I thinking during course selection? But it's my last class schedule for high school. Awww, I don't wanna grow up yet! I never got why some people try so hard to look older than they are. Growing up is so overrated._

_Off to look for Peter Pan,  
__Keelah (Don't worry. I'll still update from my computer in NeverLand.)_

**_Read, Review and Thank You!_**


	41. What Went Before

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_...It wasn't supposed to happen like that. "_

"_What do you mean? What happened?"_

"_She...passed away." It took a few seconds before his statement finally registered._

"_You _killed_ someone?"_

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter FORTY  
**__**What Went Before**_

Breaking into a sprint, I tore down the street with an eye solely on the broad front doors. At the outset I'd constrained pace to a speedy walk, but as I continued to feel those ill-omened eyes—from the moment Sasuke and I had parted ways in the Library to this very second—I was quickly reminded of the concrete reasons on which this paranoid nature of mine was built.

After what seemed like hours and long metres, I reached the house and came into the living room, collapsing on the nearest couch as I felt my legs ablaze from their exhaustion.

Beside where I loafed in fatigue, I noticed a bright book bag leaning against the counter of the window sill. In its near surroundings, a clutter of three-ring binders and loose-leaf papers were strewn about, in tandem with arbitrary pens and white-outs. Sandwiched in one of the folders, a water-blue sketchpad stuck out.

Drawn to it, I let my fingers pick out the notebook and settled the ring-bound item on my lap. I leafed aimlessly through the pages, wasting time as I was too tired to rise on my feet, until I came across one that was torn. The only thing left behind was the jagged relics of the page, a short inch from the gutter. I ran a finger over the tatters, trying to remember what it was I'd ripped and why.

Glancing at the following blank recto, I noticed recognizable dark grey specks of pencil, the result of graphite that had seeped through from the preceding folio, producing what were imperceptible traces of the original drawing. Still entrenched on the page was an outline of whatever that drawing had been, an invisible picture ingrained from the hard press of the pencil's tip at the time of creation.

Seizing a writing implement that lay among the mess, I shaded a layer of arsenic pigment across the white breadth, gradually revealing the once-undetectable diagram.

Now elucidated in plain and obvious sight a wavy, uncoloured line coiled and twisted in fluent yet sporadic curves, conspicuous against the darker gradient hue, the encircling shadow accentuating it further.

A winding serpent—its body was an overt helix on the plain piece of paper, bare and discovered…

* * *

"Sasuke!"

I ran in the direction of the said boy in haste, making my way through the multitudes of students that hurried up and down the corridors in the lunch hour rush. Over the prattling voices and raucous laughter, I called out again.

A little further down the hall, Sasuke finally whipped around, scanning the crowd for whoever had yelled his name. I raised my hand, waving at him, and he caught sight of me in the same instant. He stayed put on his spot in the hub of the traffic and waited as I headed for him. "Hey," Sasuke said. "Listen, I can't talk right now. They're waiting for me outside."

"I'll be quick. I just remembered." I dug into my bag and fished out the sketch pad; skipping to the right page, I turned the illustration towards him. A scowl materialized on his face. "I saw this on a man's arm during the mugging, right before the Rogue took such a fixation on me. I mean, it's got to mean something, right? And—mmfff…?" I stared at Sasuke incredulously, and then down at the thing that had silenced my rant, a hand that he had placed over my mouth.

He gave me a look of annoyance. "You don't know when he could be listening." He pointed out in a low voice, "You don't need to be announcing this—"

"I wasn't _announcing_ it."

"Right, you were just screaming in the middle of the hallway, hoping no one would hear." I was _not_ screaming.

"I wasn't _screaming_," I stressed. "This is such a stupid argument."

"Well, I think we should argue somewhere more private." My gaze followed his as Sasuke looked at our surrounds, which was, to my surprise, now comprised of curious and eavesdropping onlookers, tattletales who inexpertly took on the roles of a casual observer whenever they walked by. Sasuke spun and paved the way further into the atrium. I followed after him, towing behind quietly.

The closer we got to the Academy's central hall, the denser the traffic became. The Hall was an enclosed circular plaza where all major corridors of each wing joined, with ceilings made solely of skylights widened till the highest floor. The area was used recurrently for special events and in a most commonly, as a regular hangout for much of HLA's students.

It wasn't long before I found myself falling behind. As the blockage of the crowd thickened and hindered my prospect, I struggled to maintain with Sasuke.

"Sasuke," I hissed. "Slow down, will you?" But my voice was only a whisper in the midst of the solid noise. Sasuke slipped in and out of my vision until the sight of him ultimately disappeared into the swarm.

All of a sudden I was thrown forward, imbalance sweeping me off my feet as someone collided past my shoulder in a hasty manner. The sketchpad slipped from my hold and skidded across the floor a yard or so from me. I staggered for a short moment, and then swivelled around as soon as I regained footing. My eyes narrowed, but whoever had bumped into me had already waned into the horde.

Still irritated, I shifted my attention onto the ground, eyes searching for the drawing pad gone astray. I spotted the article, trampled on by a manifold of shoes. Growling, I moved through the scrambling bodies and snatched the notepad from the stampede.

...and then I felt it.

Humans, animals...we have an uncanny sense of perception that detects something we don't particularly, physically feel. Like a gaze. Eyes.

I felt them then, boring into me, following my every step, every movement and every breath.

There was no need to scan the crowd for the source of the watchful stare. Like a magnet, my attention was drawn across the hallway, towards a figure that stood by the Fire Exit doors. He was utterly immobile, nothing like the ever-moving bodies that stirred around him.

His face was blurred by the distance and other distractions that moved about in my peripheral vision, but albeit from afar there were a few things a propos to him that I was certain of. He was unmistakably faced in my direction; his eyes unmistakably fixed towards me. And even with the great expanse of passersby that stretched between us, I still saw on his features what seemed, unless I'd imagined it, an upward curvature of a smile.

A hand grabbed hold of my arm, its grip strong and secure, stabilizing me amidst the crowd. I gasped.

"I got you," the familiar voice muttered. I tore my attention away from the man to glimpse at Sasuke, but I only gave the younger boy a millisecond's worth of thought before redirecting my gaze back.

I peeked back over my shoulder to catch another glance of the enigmatic stranger, but in the split second that I looked away from him, he had gone. All that was left of his presence, a vague confirmation that he had indeed been standing there, was the swinging doors of the Fire Exit—the small indication of his quick and silent exodus.

He had already vanished.

* * *

The grip on my arm loosened, moving past the elbow and down to my wrist. To my surprise it slid even lower, until ultimately his hand had enveloped mine. Then, with a jolting force, I was yanked away from the frenzied crowd, consequently destroying any sweetness or charm that might have existed in the moment.

"You okay? I saw that bastard bump into you."

"I'm fine," I mumbled, still somewhat bewildered. "Where are we going?"

Without an answer, Sasuke directed me up a flight of stairs towards a less packed floor, with the mass of people lessening the farther we got from the main Hall. Sharply stirring around a corner, someone emerged from the edge of my eye, a fast and unexpected blur of movement passing in front of us. I wouldn't have stopped in time if Sasuke hadn't reacted first. Freezing to an immediate halt, we avoided the near collision.

"Oh!" the old man before us exclaimed, perceptibly staggered. It was the ever-infamous legal educator, Rei Watkins, who taught the mental boot-camp of Law 12. I'd met him once in the Library, a few weeks back when I'd been earning up junior grad credits. He had a brown leather briefcase in one hand, and a fat teacher's edition textbook in the other. The thinning white hairs of his head made him look highly knowledgeable, all-knowing in an elderly sense.

He smiled in acknowledgement when he saw me, but as his eyes shifted to Sasuke, the lightness on his expression quickly transformed into displeasure. Likewise, Sasuke's facade darkened.

He looked back at me, sending a message of open censure. "Hello there... Sakura, was it?"

I nodded politely, forgetting about their palpable exchange of discourtesy to each other. "Good morning, Mister Watkins." His observing gaze swung back and forth between me and Sasuke, before falling to gaze at our entwined fingers. Disapproval washed over him. On impulse, I tugged my hand away.

But Sasuke did not let go, and instead tightened his hold on my hand, as if threatening the old man to say anything about it, but the latter remained silent, speaking only with his eyes as a parade of discontent and condemnation flashed across his aged, sea-green orbs, the critical sentiments pointing towards the boy he no doubt deemed a _delinquent_.

"Well," Mister Watkins huffed gravely, "You kids better get going." I smiled respectfully, but I didn't think he noticed the farewell. He grumbled past us, plainly shaking his head, a show of forthright displeasure for teenagers these days, or at least I assumed.

A second later, I snatched my hand from Sasuke's, and he let go, willingly, Without another word, he began to walk the other direction. Traipsing after him, I questioned, "What was that about?" the instant we were out of earshot.

"I don't like him and he doesn't like me." was his blunt and straightforward enlightenment. Actually, I was talking about the hand-holding portion of the incident, but whatever.

"He's an old guy. Give him a break."

"_Me_ give _him_ a break?" Sasuke rejoined, manifestly incredulous at the words that were tumbling out of my mouth. "It's Watkins that's been targeting me ever since we first got here." He voice was of pure defensiveness. "Actually, all the teachers here hate us, like we're gonna pull out a gun and start shooting everyone or something. That old man is the worst of them."

We turned around two corners and a flight up the stairs. "Where are we going?"

Sasuke stopped in front of a burly office door. It was one of the many chambers secluded in the Academy's second floor, tucked behind the Auditorium and inaccessible to ordinary students, as it was for use of faculty only. The words **Conference Room A201 **wereimprinted boldly on the bullion-tinted slide of the glossy black encasement.

"Multipurpose Room," he replied, stepping into what had been rumoured, throughout freshmen year, the scared chambers. To my dismay, nothing truly special had reached my eyes. A subdued glow of the cloudy skies gaily illumined the room, trickling through the expanse of glass in the far side. Frames of plant life and vivid abstracts adorned the powder blue walls, while the smell of air fresheners and recently vacuumed carpet clung at my nose. It was a regular lounge.

Against the wall beside us were dormant LCDs. Sasuke plopped before one of the computers and turned it on. He pulled a rolling chair to his side and motioned me to take a seat.

"Are we allowed to be here?"

"No." Seeing the alarmed expression on my face, he speedily recanted, "I'm kidding. It's okay." Despite the assurance, I was still a tad sceptical. "We use this room for sessions." He elaborated, "It's the only private place I could think of where we can talk."

"Oh," I responded thoughtlessly. "Well, anyway, here." I heaved towards him my scribbling pad; its pages were crinkled from the earlier hallway impediment, but still held the sketched illustration clear and decipherable. As Sasuke's eyes landed on the little grey scale figure, a frown materialized on his face—and there it was; for a fleeting second, a flare of familiarity sputtered in those deep onyx pools.

"We could look it up," Sasuke proposed, his fingers soaring over the keyboard, manoeuvring towards everybody's best friend, Google.

**Google****  
Web Search:**

"I thought maybe it could help shed at least some light on the Rogue." He nodded vaguely at my words, gaze deliberately evading the diagram. I frowned. "What? Have you seen it before?"

S... N... A... K... E... E...M...

He sighed, replying, "Might have."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." He hesitated. "It looks an emblem for this gang that some... acquaintances of mine had some deals with a while back. But it's a far cry—that was a long time ago."

"What...what acquaintances?" I questioned, "What _gang_?"

"I don't know who they are, but if I'm even the smallest bit right, then I know enough to say you just dug your own grave for drawing their attention."

"But I'm only dealing with one person," I told him. "The Rogue."

"If he's got anything to do with these people, then you're in deep shit."

Results: Showing **1** - **10** of **2,360,000** for **SNAKE EMBLEM** [definition]. (**0.14** seconds)

"Jesus," he groaned, staring at the immense seven-digit numeral that was our findings. He rolled down the page and found no more than a long list of immaterial sites that were across the world from what we were looking for.

**Snake****Emblem** – Image Results

Cobra **Snake Emblem** on eBay

Mythology: **Snake Emblem** for medical, asclepios, medieval field

"Okay, that was stupid," Sasuke remarked, stating the obvious. "We need something more specific."

Results: Showing **1** - **10** of **1,690,000** for **Associations**** with ****Snake ****Symbols** (**0.24** seconds)

Sasuke deliberated for a second time, before attacking the slick black keyboard once more. At a loss of anything better to do, I let my eyes wander across room. "What is it you guys do here?"

"Sessions. Special Classes," Sasuke replied without lifting his eyes off the desktop.

"Like?"

Sighing—that seemed to be his favourite manner of conversation whenever in my company—he elaborated, "Talk therapy, anger management. It's part of the correction program." The flinch in his voice upon the word _correction_ did not go past my notice.

Results: Showing **1** - **10** of **78,300** for **Serpent ****Insignia ****Land**** of ****Fire ****Country** (**0.25** seconds)

"Are you in this program by choice?" An unknown, unnamed force was behind the sudden curiosity. I wanted to know more about Sasuke, to finally shed light on some of the mysteries floating about him.

"A lot of the guys chose the program in place of community service."

Results: Showing **1** - **10** of **201** for **Gang ****Affiliations**** in ****Konohagakure** **with a ****Serpent ****Insignia** (**0.20** seconds)

"And you?"

"It's part of my probation," he replied brusquely.

I forced myself to shut up, but no matter how much I resisted uttering it out loud, I found myself asking bluntly anyway, "What did you do?"

There was a pregnant pause at Sasuke's end of the conversation. A quick look at the table told me his right hand had frozen in place, his fingers clamped like a stone claw onto the mouse, devoid of the slightest movement.

"Sasuke?"

"I'd really rather not put up with your judgement again," he replied sardonically.

"I won't judge you."

He gave me a look of wholesome disbelief.

"I _won't_." My follow-up insistence had earned nothing but a mere shake of a head.

Just as I began to think the only response I would ever acquire was a muted strain of words, Sasuke surprised me by murmuring, "It was an accident." His face was outright emotionless, lips compressed into a firm, expressionless line.

"What was an accident?"

"What had happened."

"_What_ happened?"

He sighed. "Nothing."

"Tell me." Silence. "Sasuke."

He hesitated. "I didn't mean to hurt her. It wasn't supposed to..." A frown swept over my face. "She..." Then, his voice dropped to a volume nearly inaudible, below a whisper. If the room hadn't been as inertly silent as it was, I wouldn't have caught what Sasuke had said next.

"...passed away."

It took a few seconds before his statement fully registered in my head—and the moment I did, my entire body froze.

Alarmed and confused, I whispered, "You _killed_ someone?"

Sasuke tore his gaze away from the screen to look at me, glowering with–was I seeing right?–hurt.

"No!" he bellowed firmly. "I didn't... I—Sakura, _don't_. Don't look at me like that." A part of me wanted to bolt out of the room, but a look of his hard, pleading eyes was enough to hold me in place. I'd given my word I wouldn't judge, so I wouldn't—not until I saw his side of the tale. "Just hear me out, okay?"

"What happened?"

"It was a few years ago, when I still ran with the wrong crowd—they weren't my friends, but my broth—" He halted, fixed a hard, calculating stare upon me, before carefully resuming again. "...because of familial connections, they pretty much adopt me. They got me to B&E this house for them. It was some rich family's, on vacation.

"It was fine at first. I had to smuggle anything valuable out of the house while the rest of them waited outside. But then a woman came downstairs. She started screaming; wouldn't shut up. I had this rod in my hand..."

"You hit her?" Dread weighed every syllable of the question.

"I panicked. It hit her in the head," he told me, as if that justified the action. "The next thing I knew she was on the ground, not moving. Then the cops came."

"She died?"

"No—well, yes, but..." He shook his head, eyes tightly shut, as if he were trying to keep the memory at bay. "She was alive when they got her in the ambulance. She was alive. She was breathing. She regained consciousness. But on the way to the hospital..." He turned his head away from me. "Something went wrong, something about blood clogging in her brain, from the impact."

A violent, regret-filled shudder racked his body as he buried his fingers into dark, raven locks. "God, I never meant to—"

He stopped there, and a part of me no longer wanted him to go on, not if it meant seeing him like this. One look at his broken, defeated composure, as if he had, before my very eyes, deteriorated into that struggling young boy who'd made the biggest mistake of his life, and suddenly all I wanted to do was to reach out and encumber him inside my arms.

In the past few weeks, Sasuke had become my shield, a buffer between the Rogue and I, a source of strength from the most unexpected of people—and now all I wanted to do was return the favour and rid of him all the hurt and pain and regret that had taken away his childhood, his teenage years, and forced him grow up and see the world through tainted eyes.

But he went on, as if the tumbling of the first few dominoes triggered all the rest of fall off his tongue.

"I was charged with manslaughter," he muttered below his breath, as though recalling that fateful night had drained away his energy. "On top of theft and intrusion. Three years of juvie, then, you know, probation and rehab—the court put me in this program, and I have to get decent grades, keep a job, do some community volunteering..."

"Open Custody." He stared at me. "My mother's a criminal lawyer. And Dad was in the police enforcement."

A subtle, nearly indiscernible smirk of amusement formed amid his contorted visage. "That really explains a lot about you."

"What happened to the people you were with that night?" I asked, ignoring the remark.

"They walked."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I took the blame."

Suddenly I was confused. "_Why_?" I asked, bewildered at the lack of logical reason as to why he would do such a thing. "You just said they weren't your friends."

"They were colleagues."

"Yeah, colleagues who let you take the fall alone."

A loud and aggravated exhalation escaped through his lips. "You don't get it. We're like a surrogate family, we don't rat each other out."

"That's stupid."

"It was the least I could do after everything they do for me. I don't have a family, Sakura. These guys, they look out for me, make sure I don't get my face punched in when I walk down the street."

"Why are you talking in present tense?"

He shut up.

No reply; and then, a deliberate disconnect in our gazes.

Out of the blue, an image of the cloaked visitor, the man in the red-and-black coat that had appeared when Sasuke had first introduced me to his friends, flashed in my mind. I remembered the man he was arguing with when he'd taken me out to that small diner, or the time I'd caught him sneaking a wad of money through the gaps of the Academy's fence, and a thousand more questions materialized in my head.

It was as if the more I knew about Sasuke, the more I found out just how much I didn't know him at all.

"Sasuke," I insisted, "The man you gave money too... and the one following us that night..."

"We're not talking about this."

"Don't tell me you're getting into trouble _again_?"

He looked at me sharply. "That's none of your business, Sakura."

I scuffed, flustered with frustration. "You always tell me to trust you, but you never return the favour. I told you about the Rogue, about all that's been happening with me these past few weeks. Why won't _you_ let _me_ in?"

Silence.

And then, a sigh. "Why are you so difficult?" he murmured, the softness of his voice a clear indication of surrender.

"Who are they?"

"My brother's... _friends_." My ears perked up. He had never mentioned a sibling before, although I could recall some rumours back in middle school. "When my parents died and my brother ran away, these guys, the Akatsuki, they took me in."

"Then what's with the money?"

"After I got out of jail I didn't want to do their dirty work anymore, but they wouldn't have that. Cash was—_is_—the only way they'd keep me out of it, at least temporarily. If I give them what they need, they don't ask for anything more."

"But what's it for?"

"Gee, I don't know. Recreational activities."

"..._Drugs_?"

He shrugged, frustrated. "I don't ask questions."

"If you're doing this to make them leave you alone, why was Kakashi so paranoid when he found out about the cash?"

"Because I didn't always use the money to keep them away."

A pause.

"...I used them for me, for _my_ use."

I blinked. Oh. _Oh_.

Suddenly, Sasuke's eyes sharpened as he took in the shock and aghast that must have displayed openly on my face. "Used to," he stressed. "I was going through a lot of shit back then, but that was a long time ago. I don't anymore. Sakura—_don't._"

"Don't what?"

"You have that look in your eyes again. I can't stand it. Damn it, you just don't get it." There was aggravation in his voice. And anger. As though he were trying to communicate with a child who simply was not following his words.

"But contact with them is against your probation. You could get thrown back to juvie."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then why can't you just cut ties with them?"

"It's not that simple."

"Yes it is," I insisted, "I mean, you've gotten this far, why throw all that away just to keep in touch with a group of people you want nothing to do with, in the first place?

"It's not that simple," he repeated.

Irritation and confusion sizzled within me. "Why _not_?"

"Because they're my only connection to the only family I have left."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Sasuke gave another vague, indirect reply: "I don't expect you to understand."

The fuse of my patience burned out. "Of _course_ I don't," I exclaimed, exasperated. We were like two lines parallel of each other, our thoughts and emotions unwavering and certain, yet incapable of ever intersecting. For the past several minutes we've been at this attempt to get into each others' minds, to at least try and understand, yet here we were with a distance still as vast as an ocean. "Not if you don't tell me _anything_. These guys ran off when you were busted out by the cops. As far as I could tell, they don't even care about you."

"Out in the real world, Sakura, it's about survival. You wouldn't get it because you grew up with two parents and a decent home. You don't know what it's like to get tossed around from orphanage to orphanage, one group home after another, or have people see you as a fuck-up no matter what you do. You know nothing about me, about my life. You've never had to live through my hell..."

Then, letting his voice fade into a callous whisper, he murmured:

"You've never gone home from school one morning to find your entire family already dead. _You_ wouldn't understand."

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

_Why the hell did they have to get into this topic?_

He thought she would turn away from him and say nothing after that careless, blathered speech.

He thought she would look at him pityingly, maybe condemningly, and then walk out the door.

Or maybe Sakura would argue. Staying true to her mulish nature, he'd expected her to come back with a dozen different lines of reasoning about how she _did_ understand, denying the fact that this was one topic she could never ace academically, and that he was right.

As he waited, dreaded, for her reaction, a black and white film rerolled in the back of his mind. Unfortunately for him, it was not a silent movie. He could still hear the old man's futile screams, pricking at his eardrums, upon seeing his wife's limp body splayed on the floor of their living room.

He knew what it was: a piercing cry of loss. The sound, after all, was not unfamiliar. The very same had erupted from his mouth the minute he had walked into the Uchiha Manor that fateful afternoon.

It had been too long since Sasuke had talked about that night three summers ago, about that adverse accident. More often than not, he refused to speak about it to anyone. An offhand mention of the episode by Hatake or any one of the guys sent him on an outburst of defensiveness and unease.

If the husband had only bitched at him, or the woman had somehow gotten up and lived, then maybe he wouldn't have been so haunted by his conscience. But the woman stayed dead, and her husband, that day of the trial, had looked at him in the eye outside the courtroom and said, _"You took her away from me."_

That was it. No anger. No empty threats of revenge. His voice merely held an unbearable sorrow, his eyes overcast with the outcome of bereavement.

Breaking into his trance, disrupting the gray-scale film of recollection that reran in his mind, Sakura spoke. Instead of carrying out any of his thought-up probabilities, she said the one thing he hadn't expected her to say.

"Then _help_ me understand."

Without meaning to, he barked, "Since when did I ever have to tell you everything?"

"Since I'm probably the only person who cares."

His eyes hardened, taking in the second implication of the sentence. As much as he didn't want to admit, that stung.

"Yeah," he bitterly muttered, turning away from her to face the computer. "You're probably right."

A sigh emanated from beside him. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

It was so difficult for them to talk peacefully without clashing, and she was at most times so very infuriating, yet he had told her more than he had ever opened up to anyone else before, and while that scared him, rattled him from the inside out how easily he had allowed her in, he didn't think there was anyone else in the world he'd prefer to take her place.

With a mask of indifference he had mastered and perfected all these years, Sasuke's mind wandered back about seven hundred and thirty days into the past.

As though guilt hadn't chewed him up and spit him out enough, Sasuke had the greatest pleasure, or torture, of encountering the couple's son. The kid had been waiting for him after the hearing, standing by the huge oak doors of the Assembly hall as Sasuke was ushered, in handcuffs, out of the courtroom. He couldn't have been any older than Sasuke himself when _he_ had been orphaned.

"Mom's gone," the boy stated, inflicting the words _"Because of you" _without the need of verbalizing them aloud. They were there, hovering unspoken in midair, and Sasuke knew they were true.

He had stared at Sasuke with a gaze that denoted the situation had aged him before his time, with grave eyes that said he was no longer a little boy—a look that Sasuke understood all too well. He'd seen the same grown-up, solemn eyes each time he faced the mirror ever since the massacre.

"It was a family reunion," he suddenly spoke, startling the naive girl seated next to him—and startling himself. Why was he telling her this? "A couple months before that incident with Abumi. All my relatives had flown overseas to visit. I was coming home from school, and when I turned in our street...

"I saw the blood before I even crossed the gates," he described resentfully. "They were dead. All of them." He shut his eyes tight, ridding the images from his mind, but the panorama of infinite carcasses flooded the back of his eyelids nonetheless. There had been bodies everywhere, splayed all over the courtyard, the patio, the manor. "When I went inside, I found... found my mother and father on the floor, bleeding and—fuck, there was nothing I could do. I didn't even call the police."

He couldn't look at her—Sakura. She'd see the vulnerability that held him now, and he couldn't allow that. He hated it when anyone saw him so weak like this, so fucking pathetic, and he hated it even more that Sakura had to be the one to witness the episode. He could feel her eyes burning through him, and he wished she'd look away.

"My brother found me crying over their bodies. He and I were the only ones alive, but that didn't matter—he went missing after a few days. Ran away and just left me. It was only when I woke up in an orphanage that I realized I was on my own."

...but he couldn't bear it, the feel of her so close, her gaze so intently focused on him. It was the first time he'd gotten her fully to shut up without ever having to say the demand. Sensing the utter stillness that came from Sakura, he risked a glance at her.

Her mouth was subtly parted, caught about to speak—an apology perhaps, or a consolation of sorts, but her lips only closed after a few moments, unable to find the appropriate words.

She knew there wasn't anything left to say, and she was right, Sasuke thought bitterly. There was not a single statement of remorse, a phrase of sympathy that he hadn't yet heard, or a look of pity he hadn't already seen. But nonetheless, there _was_ one act of solace he had never _felt_, a simple, wordless act of comfort he hadn't anticipated, especially from this very girl, of all people...

So lightly that she was barely touching him, Sakura laid her hand on his.

Her touch was feather light and smooth, warm and overwhelming over his cold skin.

Slowly, gently, against his better judgement, Sasuke turned his hand palm side up,

...and closed his fingers over hers.

* * *

_Memo: Please don't cyber-slap me. I have a good, valid reason for the delay._

_This month has been insane. Every day has been hell & heaven at the same time. I turned 17 the day I was supposed to update! =) After a tiring field trip, I called up some people & we partied past 1am. It was a looong day. The week after was filled with job rejections, job interviews, job turns-out-I-actually-got-hired, job-ooops-I-already-said-yes-to-the-other-one-now-what-do-I-do, dilemmas, and, finally, the 1st day of my very 1st job. Or __2__ of them. It's overwhelming how much can happen in 7 days._

_But ANYWAY! I sincerely hope that __first taste of fluff__ was worth the wait. =) If you wanna freak out about the SasuSaku moment, go ahead!_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!  
**__Can't wait to hear all your oh-em-gee rants,  
__Keelah_

* * *

_**Notice!**_

_Due to my drastic change in schedule (as I now have to balance 2 jobs and school)  
__**Updates will be on **__**Thursdays, 6:00pm PST  
**__(same time for ya'll living in Cali, Washington & BC)_

_No more end-of-the-week updates. Sucks, right? Sadly, I work Friday nights now. I'm kissing goodbye to my weekends. Money comes with a price!  
Moral of the Story: Little kiddies, enjoy your work-free childhood while it lasts!_


	42. Rendevous

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_Are you telling her anything?"_

"_No," I whispered._

"_She's my best friend. I don't want her in any danger."_

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter FORTY-ONE  
**__**Rendezvous**_

Slicing through the moment's stillness, the door swung open to reveal a grey-haired man positioned patiently by the threshold, in effect shattering whatever stupor had for an instant existed between Sasuke and me. A single eye stared at us with utmost amusement.

All at once Sasuke yanked his hand away, as if my touch had suddenly electrocuted him, and his whole being jerked back, sitting as far from me as the seat would allow. Somewhat insulted, I shifted clear of him as well.

In an attempt to sound authoritative, Kakashi's voice rumbled superiorly, with a tone that challenged that of a principal's, only to fail the last second as he emphasized the final word like a child, "Please refrain from any public displays of _affection_."

I could tell Sasuke had to fight the urge to throw a punch. "It wasn't public until you walked in," he grunted under his breath, unheard by the older man. In a louder degree he demanded, "What do you want?"

"You still have the last two classes left to attend." Kakashi informed stoically, "Just so you know, we're waiting by the parking lot, if you guys are done here." His only visible eye twinkled in an impish manner, lingering for a moment before he exited the room.

Sasuke got up an instant later. "I gotta go; we're heading back to Konoha Secondary," he said to me as his hand moved the computer mouse, letting the pointer do a quick round of closing all programs. Afterwards, he clicked the power button of the monitor, and the screen methodically faded to sleep. "Listen, about this," His head jerked towards the empty LCD. "We're going nowhere."

"Tell me about it."

"But I know someone who can help us." His inference startled me.

"No," I quickly blurted. "I'm not dragging anyone else into this."

"Then we're not gonna get anywhere," he pointed out firmly. "He'll help us. We can trust him."

"But whoever this is, he'll want to know what we're doing," I rejoined. "What if he gets too caught up, too involved? What if he asks questions?"

"He won't." Sasuke's tone was dogged with sheer positivity—he was certain.

"Trust me Sakura, I know the guy. He'll be too lazy to give a crap about it."

* * *

He was right.

Our supposed ally did not care about our clandestine state of affairs. In fact, he looked like he was about to fall downright asleep as we headed towards him. With eyes that drooped and threatened to close, a head that tilted, about nod off anytime, and a world weary stance as though he'd fallen asleep on his feet, Nara Shikamaru's entire profile was, in essence, a life-size banner exhibiting BORED in gigantic letters: bold, capital and highlighted.

He put no effort in concealing his candid ennui—in fact he seemed like the type of guy who didn't put effort into _anything_.

On our way outside, Sasuke had assured me that there was a brain beyond the indolent temperament. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but wonder if he would be too much to a slack to be of assistance to us, or would simply doze off before we could even tell him anything.

The rest of the troupe was loitering by a white van solitarily situated in the west parking lot, and leaning against the vehicle's passenger was Shikamaru. He took no notice of Sasuke and I as we approached, too preoccupied in reverie, with his head angled towards the sky as if he found the unhurried stream of clouds completely fascinating. It was only when we stood directly in front of him that Shikamaru tore his gaze from the overcast heavens to acknowledge us, if a slothful gaze was any kind of acknowledgement at all.

I'd had only a couple of conversations with him in the past, and we were a little ways acquainted, so I didn't think I knew him enough to be asking any favour. For this reason, my plan had been to let Sasuke hold the fort.

Nonetheless, as I was unfortunately loyal to my intrepid nature, I found myself blurting the instant we stood face-to-face; "Sasuke said you can figure out just about anything."

This brusqueness managed to draw nothing more than an unresponsive raise of eyebrows. Alongside me, I could almost feel Sasuke's deliberate eye roll at my failed attempt to sound casual. Wearily, the alleged genius inquired, "And you're sucking up to me _because_?"

"We need some help," Sasuke interjected.

Right then I felt a gaze, and in the corner of my eye, I caught a figure undoubtedly faced towards me. On impulse I flicked my eyes at its direction and was surprised to find Gaara staring right back. A frown consequently formed on my face; not as much an unpleasant expression as it was a befuddled one. So much for going out some time, he had never called me. Maybe Gaara had changed his mind...

"What's in it for me?" Shikamaru answered suddenly, cutting short my train of thoughts before it got any further; I shifted my focus at what was currently happening before me. Seeing as how his voice lacked the apt seriousness that usually came with that saying, I knew Nara couldn't care less about the reimbursement.

"A thank you," I told him.

Shikamaru heaved a weighty and exasperated sigh of great fatigue; yet contrary to his unenthusiastic reaction, he said, "What do you want me to do?"

Automatically, Sasuke took out my drawing and flipped to the right page; hastily and inexactly, he tore the particular sheet, leaving a rough edge of its relics in the gutter. With the others closely watching, he folded the sketch out of sight and handed it over to Shikamaru. "Search this up."

If it were possible, question marks would have materialized, floating around Shikamaru's pineapple-resembling head, right about now. His what-the-hell look was not exactly withheld, but gratefully, picking up on the guarded way Sasuke had passed him the piece of paper, he did not protest.

"What's it supposed to be?"

"A gang symbol. I've seen it before."

Shikamaru seemed to know exactly what that meant. His eyes sparked with a sense of comprehension before wilting away into a characteristic idleness—I guess Sasuke wasn't the only one who ran with the wrong crowds in the past. "What am I looking for?" He asked before I could say anything.

"Anything. A name, an address, a phone number... somewhere to start."

His eyes narrowed. "Start what?" he queried. "What are you two doing?"

Simultaneously, I turned to Sasuke and he turned to me; our eyes locked and conversed with words unsaid, deliberating over whether we should say anything and just how much we would if we did. Believe me, it was quite strange, knowing the Uchiha's thoughts and him knowing mine in return, functioning as one mind even supposing we were, in character and personality, opposites of each other.

Shikamaru, quick to grasp our indecision and the silent debate that optically took place, dropped his shoulders in lazy surrender, lolling his head to the side in an uncaring manner. Maybe he got the message, realized the circumstance's actual gravity and realized that it was all too complicated for him. Or maybe he considered it too much of a drag to listen. Maybe he'd had a notion that the honest answer to his question would be painfully long.

Whatever the case, Shikamaru simply shoved the symbol-containing folded piece of paper into his pocket and decided to save us, and himself, of the complex situation. "You know what?" He said dismissively, as he opened the passenger door of the automobile. "I don't even wanna know."

* * *

The phone rang and rang again.

I stared at it sceptically from the window of the kitchen, contemplating on whether or not I should answer the call. Though I knew I would have to decide in due course, I deferred the eventual verdict, heedlessly continuing to smear the blood-red strawberry jam onto a buttered toast as I let the telephone's trills fill the otherwise silent air of the house.

When my attempt at stalling failed and the chimes did not cease, I lay the bread piece despondently on a plate and, with caution, drew near the telephone. I walked through the French doors and into the living room, where the communicatory device sat, plugged beside the far window. In the same moment as I came about a yard from the receiver, the very object fell quiet.

The ringing was instantaneously replaced by a customized voice mail. My father's voice blared out to inform the caller of our unavailability at present, ending with a note to leave a message, and a long, concluding beep.

I prepared myself, frightfully anticipating for the imminent words of a slaughterer, the sly, sickening tone and the haunting question of who was next hit list, but shockingly not a single utterance was heard from the telephonic loudspeaker. A pause of soundlessness transmitted from the line, and only the tow of hesitancy was audible, underlying in the static's unbroken hum.

Finally, something emanated from the phone.

"Sakura?" A strangely familiar voice declared, "Hey, it's me. Listen, if you get the chance, call me back—"

On the spur of the moment, I picked up the receiver. "Gaara?"

Astonishment filled his voice. "_Sakura_," Then, in a tone of mock hurt, he said, "Ouch. You screen your calls?"

"It's not... I'm not avoiding _you_," I explained. "More like someone else. Actually, forget I said that."

"I'm sorry I hadn't called you sooner," he apologized. "I had a lot of things going on. And it took me till today to get the guts to pick up the phone."

I laughed. "What am I, some hideous old lady?"

"No," he replied, and then, for an instant, paused. "Just the opposite, actually—that's what made it a little intimidating." I blushed, thankful that we were on the phone and I was out of his sight. "Are you busy?"

"Right now? Just making a snack."

"Actually, I was kind of thinking Friday night."

"Friday night?" I echoed, "Well, I'll have to find a way to fit you into my hectic schedule. I'm flying in the morning from Amegakure, I've got a conference at noon, a presentation due by the late afternoon and a dinner meeting with the prime minister in the evening."

He chuckled. "Nice try. I'm not easily rid of."

"I wasn't trying get rid of you." I told him, "It just sounded better than 'No, I'll be staying at home on a Friday night', which is the truth."

"Let me change that then," he offered. "We'll do the typical movie and dinner. That alright with you?"

A strange, hesitating sensation pricked at my body, which was odd, seeing as a few weeks ago I would have jumped at the opportunity to go out with Gaara. But at that very moment, something held me back.

In the back of my mind, the image of a broken, dark-haired boy, his taunted fingers dug vulnerably into his dishevelled locks of raven, flashed before my eyes.

"Sakura?" The memory disappeared just as quickly. I blinked.

"I—I'd love that," I said before my resolve faltered any more. It wasn't like Sasuke and I were anything more than friends anyway, I thought._ Liar, _hissed a voice in my head.

"I'll pick you up at eight."

"You're making it sound like a date."

Though I wasn't able to see him, I could still perceive the smirk that he most likely wore at this very second. In jest, he chided, "As if you don't like the idea." I let out an astute, scolding exhalation and made sure he heard it. Gaara chuckled.

"It's a date, Sakura." He confirmed, and while a large part of what was turning in the pit of my stomach was plain, girlish giddiness, another cause for it was the unexplained sensation of guilt.

But that was ridiculous, I quickly dismissed. I wasn't betraying Sasuke in anyway. It wasn't as if there was anything between us to betray in the first place.

The rest of our conversation played out as naturally as a river's sinuous current, transitioning from one topic to another with ease and without the presence of awkward silences. It wasn't like talking with Sasuke, always difficult and quarrel-filled.

We talked and talked again, unaware of the hours that elapsed around us.

* * *

**theuchihasasuke: Sakura**

Believe it or not, but it was Sasuke who had IMed me as soon as I signed on late that night. Given the situation we were dealing with, I knew I shouldn't have been surprised—he would be speaking to me more often now that we were working together, but despite that I was aware of that, the condition still felt new. It would be a while before I got used to this.

**lilpinkchiq: Hey.**

**lilpinkchiq: Has Shikamaru found out anything yet?**

It had barely been ten hours since their van had left HLA's parking lot, barely ten hours from the time we had asked Shikamaru for a little aid in the investigative department. It was a little early to be asking for the findings, but if he was the nerd Sasuke asserted him to be, then he should be able to do this in a snap.

**theuchihasasuke: no**

Or not.

**theuchihasasuke: the picture was too vague. It's gonna take a little longer to filter and find the closest thing to what we're looking for.**

**lilpinkchiq: how long?**

**theuchihasasuke: Not sure. He's working on it right now.**

Together, a pair of conversation boxes cropped up in the upper left corner of the screen.

**omg-its-ino!: heeeyah**

**narashikamaru: Hey Haruno.**

Seeing Shikamaru's name was a surprise, and as for Ino—I smiled. Just the person I needed to chat with. Regardless of the death and danger that hung as a threat in the back of my mind, the knotted cobwebs I was stuck on and had dragged Sasuke into, I now had a love-life to talk about, and it was the most effective distraction from death and murderers that I could ask for.

**omg-its-ino!: Missed you at lunch today.**

In total, three people talked to me in unison on three different windows—not very hard. I've had more in the past. That, of course, did not mean I was any more careful with the lesser quantity.

**lilpinkchiq: He called me today.**

**theuchihasasuke: Who?**

I jerked my hands off the keyboard, realizing I'd accidentally posted to the wrong window. _Idiot_, a voice hissed in my head.

**theuchihasasuke: Sakura, who?**

**lilpinkchiq: No one. **

**theuchihasasuke: Was it him?**

**lilpinkchiq: No, no. Really, it's no one.**

After a moment, mercifully, he let it drop.

**theuchihasasuke: Whatever**

Clicking the third, unnoticed window, I turned my attention to Shikamaru who I had, up until that moment, been ignored.

**lilpinkchiq: Hey. I thought there was only one computer in that house?**

**narashikamaru: I've got my own laptop.**

**lilpinkchiq: Fancy.**

**narashikamaru: Not a big deal. I won it**

**lilpinkchiq: Let me guess. An educational contest? Math whiz, perhaps?**

**narashikamaru: Too troublesome. Got mine from a raffle. **

I rolled my eyes.

**lilpinkchiq: Found something yet?**

**narashikamaru: I already hear enough of that repeated at me by Sasuke. Don't even start.**

**lilpinkchiq: Sorry.**

**narashikamaru: It's fine. **

**lilpinkchiq: Thanks for doing this.**

**omg-its-ino!: Are you deliberately ignoring me?**

I blinked. Right, Ino—nearly forgot about her. This time, to the right window, I typed:

**lilpinkchiq: He called me today.**

**omg-its-ino!: Sasuke! OMG!**

**lilpinkchiq: ...um, no. Someone else. **_**Sasuke**_**? Where'd you get **_**that**_** idea?**

**omg-its-ino!: You go around walking together in the halls. You aren't exactly what I'd call subtle. **

**omg-its-ino!: so who is he? Do I know him?**

**lilpinkchiq: You've probably seen him around. You know Temari, right? She's a freshman at the university a few blocks from here**

**omg-its-ino!: Yes... she's Shikamaru's ex. Please don't remind me. What about her?**

**lilpinkchiq: It's her brother that called me.**

**omg-its-ino!: ...her brother? The one with make up? Ew. EW What is wrong with you? He's OLD.**

**lilpinkchiq: **_**No**_**! The younger one, Gaara. Not **_**Kankuro**_**.**

**omg-its-ino!: oh. Well, I guess he's cute. From Sasuke's groupie, too. I always knew you secretly dig bad boys.**

**lilpinkchiq: Ugh. Ino, not true. Anyway, we're going out Friday night.**

**omg-its-ino!: This is tragic. The first time you have a guy and I don't.**

**omg-its-ino!: Speaking of boys, I saw you talking to Shikamaru outside at lunch. What was that about? I never knew you knew him personally**

**lilpinkchiq: He's just helping us with something. I don't know him personally.**

**omg-its-ino!: But you talked, right? Can you introduce me? Please!**

An alerting sound emitted from the computer and Sasuke's name glowed in orange highlight. I moved the pointer at his window and clicked it.

**theuchihasasuke: I gotta go. Let's meet up. Nara'll have something by tomorrow.**

**lilpinkchiq: Lunch break?**

**theuchihasasuke: Can't. Got classes at KSS. We can meet after school. I'll stop by the Academy to pick you up.**

I sighed. Well, if we were meeting anyway... I clicked Ino's box.

**lilpinkchiq: Fine, Ino. We're hanging tomorrow after school. Tag along.**

**omg-its-ino!: You're so awesome**

Moving to a different window, I typed:

**lilpinkchiq: Kay, I'll see you tomorrow. Hey before you go, I've got a quick question.**

**theuchihasasuke: What is it**

**lilpinkchiq: is Shikamaru seeing anyone?**

**theuchihasasuke: **_**What**_**?**

**lilpinkchiq: Shikamaru. Is he single? I know he'd dated Temari, but they broke up, right?**

**theuchihasasuke: Yeah. So?**

**lilpinkchiq: Was it mutual? Or did she like, dump him and he's still not over her?**

**theuchihasasuke: I think it was mutual. He's alright with it.**

**lilpinkchiq: So is he looking or moping?**

**theuchihasasuke: You're not **_**serious**_**?**

**lilpinkchiq: Just answer it.**

**theuchihasasuke: Please tell me you're not interested in him.**

My fingers froze over the keyboard, realizing Sasuke had somehow gotten the impression that _I _was the one crushing on the brunette. Lips curving into a small smirk, I replied jokingly:

**lilpinkchiq: Why?**

**lilpinkchiq: Are you **_**jealous**_**?**

_**theuchihasasuke has logged off**_

* * *

True to his word, I spotted Sasuke already waiting by the main gateway the minute I stepped out of the building. He was alone, as far as I could tell, with no chocolate-haired genius in sight. As Sasuke caught a glimpse of me, his hand mechanically rose above his head and waved me over, only to halt in midair when his eyes flicked towards the spry blonde at my heels. Discounting Sasuke's puzzled expression, we traversed the front courtyard, steering around the multiple masses of cliques that dotted the area, of students that loitered and refused to go home.

"Hey." I saluted, my eyes skimming at our environs for a closer survey.

"Shikamaru's not with me." Sasuke notified before I even had the chance to voice the question. In the corner of my peripheral vision, Ino's zealous face fell into disappointment.

"Don't you go to the same school?" I asked him.

"We don't have a class together. I haven't seen him all day." Turning away, he jerked his head at the wide lane that stretched along the length of campus. "He's meeting us at the mall." With him at my right, and Ino on the other side, we started down the sidewalk.

"The mall?" I hissed at Sasuke. "Are you kidding?" Who had thought of _that _rendezvous point? It had to be the densest place in all of Konoha.

"No, I'm not," he murmured in my ear. "Now answer me. Why's _she_ here?"

"Ino's just tagging along," I mumbled, ensuring that the conversation was out of our subject's earshot.

"No shit."

I rolled my eyes. "She wants to meet your friend."

A beat of silence. "Oh," he said. "_She_ likes him?"

"Yeah. Not me," I verified. And was that a sigh of relief from Sasuke just now?

"Are you telling her anything?" His breath softly bounced off my skin, and I shuddered.

"No," I whispered. "She's my best friend. I don't want her in any danger."

"Oh, c'mon!" Ino exclaimed out of the blue. Startled, I jumped away from Sasuke and looked at her irritated features. "Can you not be so... lovey-dovey? I feel like a third wheel." It was as a consequence of that remark that Sasuke kept his distance from me for the rest of the walk.

Shikamaru was waiting for us in the food court, unaccompanied in one of the archetypal tables with a pop can in front of him. The common area was bordered by an array of food franchises, people of all ages bustling to line up at different vendors, each with a distinctive red plastic tray in hand. A system of comparable chairs and tables, all with identical colour and build, was arranged in organized columns across the plaza. It was the hub of the shopping centre, the nucleus of the cell where racket and crowds were at its extreme.

"The food court?" I snapped at Sasuke as we made our way to Shikamaru's designated spot. "What we're doing isn't exactly meant for the whole world to know."

"It's so loud that whoever's listening in would have to get close, and if they do, we'll spot them." I wanted to whack him on the head, and reprimand him that the Rogue did not get close. He watched from afar. On the other hand, the chatters were at such a maximum level that it would truly be hard to overhear. Maybe we could pass as an ordinary band of teenagers hanging out.

Shikamaru lifted his head and confusion straight away flickered in his eyes. His stare still lingered on Ino as we reached the table and took our seats, and only when I spoke did he shift his gaze. "Ino, this is... Ino?" I called her attention as her head was turned the other way, mentally absent, her attention fluctuated at something else instead. "Ino." I repeated, somewhat peeved. She looked at me. "This is Shikamaru. Shikamaru, Ino."

"What's _she_ doing here?"

"Rude much?" She riposted. He glared.

"Okay," I exclaimed, cutting short their unpleasant first acquaintance. "What did you find out?"

Shikamaru heavily exhaled, as though the simple exchange had extorted his energy and left him bushed. "I got a name for you." He started. "Alias: Orochimaru."

He paused for effect, or at least I thought he did, but when he hadn't gone on, I realized he was never going to pick up again. "And?"

"That's it."

"_That's_ _it_?"

"Hey, I did the hard part," he defended. "Looking up some little drawing wasn't exactly easy. Now that you have a name, everything else is easy."

"Surname?"

"None."

I groaned.

"He's a long missing criminal. The serpent character is a symbol of The Great Snake, hence the name. Snake comes from the work _snaca _or, in Greek, _érpein, _which means to crawl or sneak—in other words, in hiding. It signifies his defection. For years now he's gone dark, along with everything about him." I blinked; surprised at the amount of information he had suddenly unloaded.

Slapping a cream folder on the tabletop, Shikamaru slid it towards Sasuke and me. "It's mostly there. Any more information and you can look it up yourself."

While I was taken back, Ino was out-and-out perplexed. "What is this about?"

"History project. On, uh, social issues." It was the very first explanation that came to mind, and it only occurred to me a second later that...

"You don't take history," Ino claimed.

"I meant, _Sasuke's_ history project," I corrected, tripping over my own tongue. Sasuke's eyebrows rose, but he remained silent. "I'm just...helping. Anyway, we should go." Hastily pushing back my chair, I got up and snatched the file on the table. I sent a sharp look at Sasuke's direction for him to do the same, and after a short while, he too stood up. "We can head over to my house and skim this through." I told the ebony-haired boy, and at Shikamaru, I said, "Thanks for the hand. We'll do the rest from here."

"Hey, wait—"

"Let's go, Sasuke. Bye, guys." I broke off Shikamaru's protest, briskly walking away before the two had the opportunity to get off their seats.

Once we were out of earshot, a good several yards away, Sasuke grabbed my arm and spun me around, amusement tinkling in the gloss of his onyx orbs. "You did that on purpose?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "She likes him."

Glancing back across the sea of ring-shaped tables and dining consumers, at the heart of the Food Court, I spotted the pair still settled in their stools, now alone. However, even with the expanse between us, I could clearly make out the lack of involvement from both parties and their nonexistent conversation.

A lethargic mask had yet again taken over Shikamaru's face, patently denoting his tedium. Ino was not even paying attention at the boy she purportedly liked. Her gaze was focused at something else completely, her head turned in the opposite direction. Her features were contorted, marked with unmistakable frown.

"You," Sasuke tantalized beside me, "are an incapable matchmaker, Sakura."

* * *

_**Yamanaka Ino**_

Ino was used to men looking at her. She wasn't boasting—it was merely a fact she had learned to love and live with. After a while, she didn't mind so much anymore. Guys were more or less the same; she knew they looked at some other girl in the same way they sized her up; it wasn't personal. Just something their hormones told them to do.

It was for this reason that she had, over time, learned, how to identify their stares. She knew the difference between a stranger's casual glance and a man's craving ogle. Thus, it wasn't very hard to sense the gaze that lingered too long at her direction. She tried to shrug it off, to snub the persistent eyes, but something about it felt... off.

It wasn't anything like the approving glimpses she customarily received; it was sharper, for one thing, dismembering her every movement. For some reason, she felt... exposed.

Instinctively, she scanned the shoppers to search for whoever the gaze belonged to. She had even disregarded Shikamaru at the time—it had bothered her that much. Shortly, her eyes landed on a ghostly figure calculatingly situated in the farthest table of the plaza. He sat by himself, speaking to no one and eating nothing, with no meal presented before him although this was a food court. The distance was too far for Ino to discern his face, but before she saw any more, Sakura had called her attention.

She'd glanced at him many times over the course of the conversation that went on in her midst, with Ino only half-listening. She was trying to figure out what it was that felt so different about this stranger's stare. It was upon Sakura and Sasuke's abrupt departure that she finally figured it out.

Sakura stood, bid goodbye, and left with the other boy. All this time, the man's gaze had moved accordingly.

She was mistaken. He wasn't looking at her direction.

His dissecting orbs, boding an uncanny sense of evil, were staring directly at Sakura.

But then, to her horror and surprise, those hair-raising eyes shifted their gaze away from Sakura...

...and zeroed in on _her_.

* * *

_Memo: I've tried to omit this long-due speech, cuz I thought it was unfair to rant about something that didn't apply to everyone, but since it's all I've been hearing lately, I have no choice:_

_I'm finishing this story. However long it takes. That's a lot more than anyone can say about half of the uncompleted fics out there. If there's a delay, it's probably cuz I'm trying not to fail Lit, or trying to get good-enough grades for university, or trying not to get fired. Legit reasons. Not just "I'm not inspired" or "I'm lazy." Soo... I would really, really, appreciate it if the "where's-the-update-move-your-lazy-butt-will-you-hurry-up-already" stopped. I get more than enough whining from rude customers at work, and I'm miserable enough from the stress of school and work and extra-curics. You guys are my safe haven. Please don't ruin that._

_Of course, this doesn't apply to everyone, & I appreciate those who give me nothing but endless support and patience._

_Moral of the story? __Be nice to fast-food employees__! Cuz I know how they feel now! Ahaha, jk. Anyway, I know you guys get impatient, and I really do apologize. __**A million Thank-You's**__ to ya'll._

_Ever grateful and indebted to such a wonderful (and coughPATIENTcough) set of readers! (lol),  
__Keelah_


	43. Art in the Underground

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_I met the rigid frontage of Uchiha Sasuke..._

_But the young man opposite of me was not Sasuke, rather a mere ghost of him._

_...and out of the cracks of his too indifferent mask, a third sentiment was exposed:_

_Tremor._

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter FORTY TWO  
**__**Art in the Underground**_

**Web Search: Orochimaru**

"This guy disappeared a couple years ago, left the country, but now rumour has it that he's got a crew working under him, here in Konoha."

Sasuke and I were at my house.

More precisely, we were situated in my room, with a goal that comprised of looking into further detail about a man known as "Orochimaru".

Back at the food court, I'd only cobbled together the after plan of heading back home because it was the first white lie that came to mind explaining our abrupt departure—not that I actually meant any of it. Sasuke, however, apparently thought I did. The instant we stepped across the automatic doors of the shopping mall, he had set out en route for my residence, and I knew there was no stopping him

"...there were a few sightings of him," I reflected mostly to myself, rolling down the virtual page. "But mostly he's laying low. Apparently he supplies drug circles underground, and some other illegal stuff..."

I'd taken my accustomed spot in front of the PC while Sasuke, since I hadn't an extra chair (except for the gigantic bean bag plopped on the floor in a corner, which he was too prideful to use), had flopped onto the spongy cushions of my bed. I tried to snub the nagging voice in my subconsciousness that annoyingly repeated: _He's sitting on my bed, he's sitting on my bed..._

"But get this: none of these was ever actually traced back to him, physically, anyway. He's got a whole set of people to do the job. Lately, there've been an awful lot of mugging in downtown Konoha... the police thinks Orochimaru's connected, but there was never enough proof."

Sasuke sat and listened without a sound—at least, I assumed he was paying attention—as I vocally read internet articles that seemed germane enough to help us, whilst he perused the information we already had, information Shikamaru had gathered. Sasuke, on his part, never bothered to tell me the things _he_ was reading.

Once I'd dared to ask about it, but he only told me much of the data was useless, nothing that would bring us closer to this stealthy villain—or to the Rogue for that matter. The expression on his face was that of pure concentration, and the way his eyes never lifted off the files indicated he was fully spellbound. I knew he would notify me if he'd discovered something important, but he was nearly finished with the pile and not a word had escaped him since we'd gotten here.

I, on the other hand, made a point of verbalizing just about every little detail I found out on the web.

**47 bodies found in underground Laboratory **the Capital Press (Konoha, LF)

"Hey, listen to this," I blurted out, eyes widening as I rapidly clicked the link of the article. In a split second, the screen altered into a page of words, flashing the news piece I'd managed to disinter from under old editorials and reports. The article was issued five years ago, but its age did not obscure the details of the story. "The number of missing persons suddenly rose in Konoha about five years ago. It went on for months, but they were never found. Then the cops came across an underground lab just a few years back. The facility was abandoned, but everything was pretty much still there. They found the bodies, all dead, encased in life-size cylinders, on lab tables all sliced up and dissected, _implanted_ on the walls. Some were torn from limb to limb... oh my god..." I mumbled, entirely immersed and horrified at the same time. The article incorporated pictures, ones that were not for the faint heart, yet I found my eyes nevertheless glued onto the ghastly visuals of the laboratory and its experimental human subjects.

"The place was flooded with medical apparatus, mostly stuff used in surgeries. Sasuke, these people were _tested_ on!" I exclaimed in terror, trapped in a sickened daze that I was sure my stomach would vomit its food contents any minute. "The police believe it was Orochimaru's old fort, but there wasn't anything to prove that. They never had enough evidence to convict him."

In the course of this account, Sasuke, behind me, had remained absolutely unaffected. He did not make the slightest reaction; not even a restrained gasp or a puff of incredulity. In fact, he was so noiseless that I began to wonder if he hadn't sneakily bolted out of the abode to escape my nattering. I glanced over my shoulder.

Just as before, he was stationary on the mattress with a facade of intentness on his face, focused on the folder that lay open between his hands. The only difference was that he was not anymore shuffling through each leaf of paper, but instead had frozen on one in particular.

From where I sat, I could see that it was an enlarged photograph of the insignia, but the broader size did not automatically bring about a higher resolution. It was still blurred to an imperceptible level, mere pixels of an unclear serpent. Owing to the distance of his eyes I could tell that Sasuke's mind was not on the printout, but was somewhere else instead.

"Sasuke?" His trance shattered, pulling him back to the reality that was my chambers. With eyes empty as an abyss, he lifted his head and looked at me. "You haven't said anything since we got here. What's wrong?"

For a minute or two, my query was left unanswered, yet I dug my heels in. If the silence prolonged hadn't already conveyed that I was not going to let this matter pass, then it was my finely-honed defiant stare that did. Sasuke must've picked up on my obstinacy, for he eventually spoke. "This man..." he began, his voice a low mumble, "I think I've seen him before."

I stared at him uncomprehendingly. His single pronouncement should have come as no surprise, seeing as he knew of the serpent insignia, yet the fact that he had seen him too shocked me.

"Oh?" I prompted, at a loss of how to react.

"He kept contact with the Akatsuki. I saw him sometimes back when they'd adopted me in. I guess I must have seen the tattoo on his wrist, that's why it looked familiar. I used to think he was just another dealer." But apparently he was a psychotic scientist who experimented on humans, too.

"What do you mean by 'kept contact'?"

"He...used to be a part of the Akatsuki, or at least I heard. He left before I came, and before my brother disappeared."

I was rapt by Sasuke's dark and dangerous world, more so than the unbelievable gruesomeness of the internet article on my computer screen. I was curious and hungry for more. "Why did he leave?"

Every word of his past painted a world of risk and mystery... "He was forced to, after trying to kill my brother." ...and, apparently, pain and complexity as well—it made me want to make things better for him, safer and brighter than the childhood he'd had to endure.

I opened my mouth to speak, but words seemed to have been siphoned from my throat and brain, leaving me to be a speechless and agape statue. Similarly, my reactions were just as quenched—I didn't know how to respond. Sasuke's flippancy as he described the incident had bamboozled me; the story had rolled off his tongue as if he were merely relating his day, as though he was used to such violence.

But then again, perhaps he _was_ accustomed to it. I thought back to the things he'd told me about him, how he'd ran with the wrong crowds at such a young age and had, in the process, gotten himself in a multitude of trouble because of it; how his world had more or less gyrated around rumbles and thefts, left and right.

As he shifted, rays of light hit his face in a different angle, and the outline of each of his features were illumined by a mellow radiance that came from the lamp behind him. I suddenly became aware of the narrow white line that stretched slantwise across his left cheekbone: a subtle scar, lighter than the skin around it, inconspicuous yet, on a closer proximity, seemed awful deep.

"I got it from a scuffle," recounted Sasuke, noticing my stare. "It wasn't really a fair fight, the guy had a knife."

All contemplations regarding Orochimaru had now left my brain, for at this moment in time, I was mesmerized by Sasuke's story, his life, and his world that was so much darker than mine.

"How…" My voice was a murmur, faltering and all at sea. "How do you even manage to survive that?"

Unexpectedly, the corner of his lips curled into a smile that never reached his eyes. There was a sense of acidity in those bottomless pools of black. With an astringent humour Sasuke stated more than asked, "Quite different from your world, huh?"

He was right. We were nothing like each other. He and I were irreconcilable, diametrically opposed... His universe and mine were poles apart.

But as he looked up to meet my eyes, fierce obsidian enmeshed with stubborn emeralds, and I had a strange, fleeting thought that we could overcome whatever distance or difference that lay between us.

* * *

A crashing noise boomed right through the unoccupied corridors of the domicile, the extent of the unexpected roar vibrating the floorboards beneath our feet.

In a second, I was out of my chair and onto the mattress beside Sasuke, grasping his arm on impulse. On the side note, I couldn't help but mentally notice the hardness of his biceps underneath the bandages; it was oddly comforting. Sasuke would have undoubtedly laughed at my scurrying like a child if only alarm hadn't taken a hold of him as well. He, however, had reacted more reasonably, whipping his head around concomitantly, eyes narrowing with caution at the entrance of my bedroom.

The door was opened wide, lit brilliantly in a welcoming fashion as was the areas in its immediate surroundings. But as nature would allow it so, light could only extend so far, and in places beyond its reach, darkness reigned. Everything outside was cloaked in a thick blanket of shadows: the corner at the end of the hall, the banister's curving apex, the top of the stairway…all were blended into the amorphous haze of black and grey, a backdrop of the unidentified.

I shivered—an act that drew Sasuke's attention. A frown was etched onto his face as he peeked at me with a quizzical set of obsidians. "Is anyone else home?"

"No." I shook my head, my chest heaving in and out. "My parents are out of town."

"Well, it was probably an animal," he dismissed, though we were both uncertain of the fact. Sensing my shaken state, he added, "You okay?"

"Yeah." I laughed—all the more proving I was _not _okay. "I'm fine, just—"

Something creaked loudly on the floor below us, and then slammed, a racket not as thunderous as the previous one, but just as startling nonetheless. This time though, I knew what it was.

I shot Sasuke a look of distress.

"That was the back door," I told him, subsequently stammering a flood of panicked words, "Dad never had the time to oil the hinges, and the creaking noises just drives my mother insane, so there's no mistaking that was—"

"Stay here," he cut off with a stern directive of his composed and collected voice—at least one of us was unafraid. As he rose, he gently pried my fingers off his muscular arms—muscular? Ugh, I didn't mean it like that. The fear was getting to my head. I quickly let go of him and noticed his now wrinkled sleeve.

As he made for the door, I whispered urgently, "Where are you going?"

He ignored me. Walking out of my room, Sasuke quietly swung the movable panel, stopping just before it fully closed. "Lock this. Don't open it for anyone but me." He ordered from the small slit, and decisively shut the door. I rushed forward, bolted the knob and bounded back to the bed.

Footfalls treaded down the staircase, the sound muffled by the wooden partition and the increasing vastness that separated me from Sasuke. The farther he was, the less safe I felt. Soon enough, the faint thudding of his steps, my only confirmation that he was in fact still in the building with me, faded into nothingness.

The silence was deafening, blaring into my eardrums at maximum volume as though I was standing in the midst of a soundless concert—strident yet muted. It swelled and permeated within the room, pushing at the walls, growing quieter if that were even possible, until I physically felt suffocated. It was all in my mind, I knew, and yet I began to breathe with difficulty.

Stillness hovered forebodingly, above me, beneath me and all around, enfolding my entire being from all sides like a deadly embrace.

Everything was still, everything was silent, yet everything was amplified to its extreme.

But no, it wasn't wholly quiet, I revoked. In the background, the unvarying hum of the computer zipped athwart the air, penetrating the soundlessness with the ceaseless drone of the electronic processor, ear-splitting and lifeless.

I stared at the door, gaze fixed upon the pale, moveable barrier covering the gap that formed the entrance into this very room. An inner voice of mine willed for it to unbolt itself and present an unharmed Sasuke, but to my dismay the noncompliant thing stayed put, installed into the wall, motionless. My fingers fidgeted uncontrollably, clenching and unclenching the comforter, picking at the sheets, knotting stray fibres of pillow cases.

In the back of my head, suspended like an imminent cloud of downpour, dangling with a malice that chilled me to the bone, was a lone, inescapable question.

Where was Sasuke?

I threw a fleeting glance at the stout table positioned by the headboard, my circumspect orbs brushing momentarily on the glass features of the alarm as I absorbed the numbers that stood out in bright red colours. A quarter to seven. Six minutes—Sasuke had been gone for precisely six minutes.

I fiddled some more, touching and toying with everything in my reach: the papers that speckled over half the bed (I flipped them over and around, scrutinizing the outlandish symbols of the written English language on the wrong side up), the supple creases of the comforter (I smoothened them out bit by bit, only to crinkle once more under the slightest contact), hems of the cotton fabric (I fingered the stitches down and up, fascinated and uninterested in chorus...)

—Suddenly, the knob twisted and clicked in failure to open; and the door, no longer at a standstill, budged with a force from the other side.

Though my blood seemed to have frozen, the blood-pumping organ in my chest hammered twice its regular pace, circulating the red fluid a little too much, too fast. I made no move for the door.

The attempt came a second time... and then the third, with hasty movements now. Knuckles rammed the wood: a rough knock, followed shortly after by a voice equally as coarse.

"Sakura?" Doubtfulness was the first emotion I detected. "It's me. Open up." A few seconds later, I picked up on another one: indifference. Suddenly the security that almost always came along with his presence evaporated like morning dew underneath the first few scorching rays of summer sunlight. Rather than dashing for the door, I approached it with much dread, frightened of what awaited on the other side of the wall.

I met the rigid frontage of Uchiha Sasuke. Hardened stones of onyx bore into my eyes, but in spite of the intensity in his gaze there was remoteness there as well, as though he was looking at me but never actually seeing me. Like I wasn't there—or, I reconsidered, maybe it was _he_ who was not present, mentally.

The young man opposite of me was not Sasuke, but a mere ghost of him.

His back was unusually straight, lips pressed into a solid stroke of restraint—he was keeping something back. I raked behind the cover he had forged in order to keep control of his emotions, and out of the cracks of his too indifferent mask that had failed to do so, a third sentiment was exposed: tremor.

"Sasuke?"

He put forth an open palm between us. "Come with me." If he'd spoken that in haste, in alacrity, like we were endeavouring for an escape or something of the sort, then I probably would have understood. I would have taken his hand without question. But he had uttered the instruction with insouciance, taking his time, as if he didn't even want to go to our supposed destination himself.

"Why?" I hesitated, big time. "What did you see?"

Sasuke, growing impatient, dropped his hand and clutched my arm, in a manner not insensitive, but uncompromising nonetheless. "Look for yourself."

Against my will, I was hauled along the hall and down the flight of steps. As we departed from the lit atmosphere of the second floor, light in turn deviated from us, and shadows began to burgeon with every inch of our descent. I couldn't make out my feet or the stairs supposedly underneath them, and I moved with pure intuition, which proved not to be very useful as, a moment later, I slipped.

The grip on my upper arm tightened instantaneously, pulling me back on my feet, and a trickle of air blew in my ear, "Watch your step." Quite a nonsensical thing to say in the dark, if you asked me.

By the time we stood at the bottom of the staircase, it was jet-black. The lights were switched off and the curtains drawn shut, hindering any faint illumination the moon might have offered to ease the state of obscurity. It was black inside of the house and out, and the thought only helped accelerate the pounding of my heart.

A hand lay at the small of my back, and I found myself staggering forward as Sasuke piloted the both of us across the living room. He meant to guide me I presumed, but under the circumstances, it felt more like he was pushing me. And maybe he was. Once my pupils dilated accordingly to the lack of light, I realized where exactly we were headed towards.

Past the sitting room, around behind the kitchen, and down the very end of the corridor into the back room. At a sharp turn to the right, subsisting in the furthermost corner, a long forgotten door emerged in sight.

For as long as I could remember we had kept this entrance closed; on no account locked permanently, but even so it was rarely used. In the few occasions they needed to excavate some ancient items out of the tombs of cardboard boxes, my parents commonly utilized the alternative, safer access out the back.

To my surprise however, the door was ajar.

It was not puzzlement but rather apprehension that engulfed me, clasping my every muscle, every system and organ with its skeleton claws. Why had Sasuke brought me here? What had rendered him to be so shaken in the first place? What had he _seen_?

The more these inquiries faded into and out of thought, disinclination dominated in my gut, and as a reflex I halted a meagre couple of feet's distance from the door, incapable of moving any closer to the wraithlike entryway. A sudden weight perched on my back and a light shove propelled me onwards. I stumbled numbly to the fore. With trembling fingers I reached out, grabbed the small-sized handle and, after a moment of reluctance, pulled.

The panel fully swung open, revealing a narrow stairwell that steeply plunged into indefinite darkness. On either side were metal handrails blemished with the colour of rust, evident of neglect and inattention. A city worth of cobwebs inhabited the place, with a nasty little arachnid or two dangling from above by an unseen thread. Thick coverlets of dust swathed over the surface of every step, and though it was dim I noticed the faint, fresh trails of footprints on each of them—Sasuke's, I determined.

The trace disappeared into the seemingly bottomless pit, towards a room interred beneath the ground: the basement.

There was a time where my parents had leased the basement suite. After a few tenants however, the management proved to be a little more difficult than they had anticipated, and since their jobs were already a handful each, they were compelled to let go of the side business. After that phase was over, the apartment was converted into regular storage space; it was unusually large and complete with a kitchen and lavatory, but an efficient stockroom nevertheless. The daylight basement, which was half underground and half above it where the slope winds down, was typically bright, with a wall of glass that overlooked the wide green spread of the back yard. Unlike many other children, going down there had never been a fear for me.

It had never been a daunting cellar to my eyes.

Until now.

The knowledge that there was something down there... waiting for me... I felt my knees weaken and knock together.

Out of the blue, Sasuke inserted force into his hold on the small of by back, the motion both urging and ur_gent_. I didn't budge. "Sakura," He warned, though it sounded not much of a warning with its qualmish tone. "Go." Doubt coated over the three syllables of my name and the subsequent command, as if despite the fact that he said so, he didn't really want me to go.

Squirming in unease, I wheezed, "I can't."

"Why not?" Sasuke asked insistently, repentantly. "It's there."

I spun, confused and petrified simultaneously. "_What's_ there?" I demanded, glaring into his eyes, seeking for an answer. He looked away. "You're scaring me," I whispered.

A look of guilt and indecision swept over his features, but Sasuke gave no answer. "...What's in the basement?" I said again, afraid of the answer.

His mouth opened to speak, but he merely gaped as nothing came out of his lips. For once, the Uchiha was at a loss for words, which was, to me, more terrifying than it was surprising. He was so collected all the time, calm and in control of the situation. The anomalous conduct was worrying…frightening.

Without a thought about what I was doing and driven by both instincts and the need to know, I whirled around... and dashed down the staircase, but not before catching the panic exploding on Sasuke's visage as he realized what I was about to do, as senses finally returned to him. As if he hadn't just spent the last five or so minutes forcing me down those stairs, he reached out to grab my hand, to pull me back, but my fingers easily slipped from his. He cursed.

"_Sakura!"_

I heard him shout, and the cry reverberated throughout the constricted strip of space, ringing in my ears, desperately calling out for me—but it was too late. I was already halfway there and I wasn't about to turn back.

Jumping the last three steps, I landed with a loud thud at the bottom of the stairway. My heartbeat clobbered against my chest as I squinted, blinking quite a few times as to let my eyes adjust to the amount of light, or more exactly the lack of it.

The transparent sliding doors that expanded across the whole far wall let in a fair quantity of moonlight, lighting up the background and in effect transforming all the rest of the room into one big silhouette. The shadowed contours were defined by the luminosity, and I effortlessly recognized the different figures in the secondary suite: the stove, the miniature kitchen, the towering stack of boxes and the prehistoric dining set my father had been too lazy to throw away.

And then, as my gaze was slowly lured toward the hazy form that projected in the midst of it all, toward a vertical blob that appeared to have materialized out of nowhere, floating above the floor, I stiffened.

My throat tightened and clogged, congealing with the rest of my body.

Against my better judgement, I wobbled forward; one step. And then another, and another, until I was finally close enough to discern what it was. I gasped.

In the dead center of the room, suspended by strands of hemp twisted together into a rope as strong as steel, with arms limp on either side and a head that drooped forward... a body dangled lifelessly before my eyes.

His mouth was left half open, breathless and frantic for air. His eyeballs were nearly bursting out of its sockets, broadened by despair; and his face, wrinkled and aged, was ashen with panic, with horror and with helplessness. Raw and reddened marks encircled his neck where the rigorous cord bit into his skin; around that region were evident scratches of fingernails, a lace of slightly bleeding cuts, denoting only one thing: he had struggled.

Strangely though, I did not scream—somehow that response indicated surprise, a bombshell, but death to me was not anymore a bolt from the blue.

Death was nothing new to me.

For death, I was now used to.

Instead, I only whimpered and fell to my knees.

Soon, my vision blurred, shrouded by tears, eclipsing out of sight the dead body.

But the image in my head was still hauntingly, agonizingly clear. The bulging eyes, gaping mouth, his pastel skin, hovering in midair at the hub of the cellar... was the inert and life corpse of the elderly instructor's—Rei Watkins.

* * *

_**Unknown**_

His eyes, blank and impassive, scanned about the room, ensuring that everything was in place. The hefty load of boxes was amassed on the far corner, ready to fall over with a lone kick, to set off the diversion he needed to bring the girl here. By the doorstep, the old man lay stationary where he had left him, face down on the tiled floor. Above his head, a rope hovered, one end knotted into a loop while the other was tied securely around the sturdiest pipe.

Forcefully, he tugged at the cord, and when it did not give away, he smiled and glanced at his next kill, his next masterpiece. _Everything's all set for you, grandpa. _He thought sinisterly.

He ambled across the room, leisurely and unrushed. With ease he hauled the unconscious old man over his shoulder and brought him back to the rope, the vital implement of his death. Dexterously, he hoisted him up and wrapped the rope around the old guy's neck. When he was certain the cord was solidly in place, he let go, stepped back, and enjoyed the show.

A current of excitement rushed through his veins as he watched from the sidelines the struggling old man, who was dying slowly, silently and surely. He'd jolted awake the moment the rope closed stringently around his neck, obstructing his digestive and breathing passage, causing him to open his mouth in dire need for oxygen—pity, he gaped like a feeble fish out of the water.

He thrashed about, clawing at the rope, but they both knew his attempts were futile. The more he resisted the tighter knot became, and the tighter the knot became, the more it squeezed the life out of him. The old man's eyes popped out, staring at him with a gaze so horrified it was as if he was staring at Death itself in its human form.

He chuckled, knowing there was some truth in the statement, and liking the sense of power it gave him.

The old guy floundered violently for another minute, flailing his limbs in all directions, choking, struggling, until his movements came to an abrupt, ultimate halt.

He tilted his head, observing the hanging body as it gently swung back and forth, noting how the dead man's fingers twitched a couple times, before falling into an infinite state of inertness.

Pulling out a camera from his pocket, he aimed and flashed, taking as much pictures as he could to capture the moment. After he was done so, he put away the device and stepped back for a last look at the magnum opus.

The edges of his lips turned up into another smile, internally pleased at the latest addition of his sickeningly brilliant work of art.

* * *

_Memo: Question!_

_It seems more people read on Friday, I guess because it's the weekend. But I wanna ask this poll: __when do you guys prefer the updates to be: __**Thursdays ****or ****Fridays**__? Lately I haven't been working Fridays, so I just might be able to go back to my end-of-the-week update treats._

_Secondly, and this is just a random question cuz I always get reviews like "I spent 2 days reading all 40 chapters!" How long does it take you guys to read one chapter? It takes me __forever__ to read one and a lot of you zoomed through these long chapters in like, 2 nights!_

_Anyway, I appreciate those who send in feedbacks or even a simple "Update Soon"—it'd be nice if the 400+ readers who have this on favourite actually reviewed, and not just the usual 50 or so. But for those supportive set of 50ish reviewers, you're the reason I update =) Thank you!_

_Happy 4-day loooong weekend!  
__Keelah_

* * *

_**Lest We Forget:  
In honour of the soldiers who died so that a next generation could live.**_

_(11/11 Remembrance Day)_


	44. Stealth

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_He took a step forward._

_At the outset, I didn't know where he was headed; but when he crossed the street, manoeuvred through the yard, and around the white vehicles...instantly his destination became clear to me._

_He was headed here._

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter FORTY THREE  
**__**Stealth**_

A guardian angel's, a rescuer's, saviour's... or whosesoever it was, arms enclosed all around me—a shield from the frightening sight of the deceased educator that hung at the heart of the basement, a lifeline to pull me out of the dreadful scene, the drowning waters of my emotions.

One had wrapped behind my back, fastening a secure grip on my waist, while the other hooked under my knees. In one fluid motion, I was lifted off the ground, elevated from all my existing predicaments, as if I'd left gravity behind and soared.

In my ear, I heard a soft, struggled grunt. "Don't," I whispered. "You haven't fully healed yet..."

But my protest was disregarded. The gentle lift, the buoyant feeling... somehow I knew, without the need to unclose my eyes, that I was in safe hands.

Delicately enveloped into this stranger's embrace, my head nestled against his neck, I was glided across the suite, held in the same way grooms carried their brides. I let my state of mind be swayed by the lulling effect of being kept afloat, at least until I felt myself ascending higher still, up what I deduced was the staircase. It felt precariously steep even as I was above ground, and right away I became aware of the sheer gradient of the steps. The wooden boards creaked below, announcing its deficiency and out-of-practice condition in sustaining such weight, after living through a long era of inattention. Unconsciously, my fingers clenched into a tight, nervous ball, hanging on dearly to the fabric of my rescuer's shirt.

The encirclement that surrounded me tautened, pulling me in deeper into his arms. I felt a low rumble in his chest as he spoke, the air from his lips bouncing subtly against my skin. "I won't drop you."

Calm streamed throughout my body, and I relaxed at the whispered promise, knowing full well that I was not going to fall, that he wouldn't let that happen. I drifted on a cloud for another few seconds or so, till finally I was set down on a soft and leathery couch.

Whatever sort of haze I'd fallen into shattered in my midst at once; as serenity gradually seeped away, replaced by a depthless sense of reality, I opened my eyes. As ridiculous as it sounded, I half-expected to find the handsome, restful countenance of the seraph that had come to my rescue. Instead of that however, all that emerged into view was the visage of Uchiha Sasuke, which was, very much to my surprise, visibly overwrought—his jaw was set, his stare rueful and his forehead creased into a frown.

I blinked, my eyes stinging from the tears that have dried in their corners. The brightness of our surrounds stunned me; the back room, where we were currently situated in, was colourfully illuminated, reaching all four corners without a single patch of shade able to be seen. By degrees the rest of the area resolved in my peripheral vision: the arrangement of sofas and the minute table at their center, the urbane abstract adorning the walls, the home theatre... and at the very edge of my sight, the slender door, still open and still uncannily dark. I could discern, from where I sat not too far away, the staircase, which specifically led down to the subterranean vault, where the body of Rei Watkins still hung.

At the reminder, a quiver clamped onto my spine and travelled through my bones. How could one ever forget such a sight?

The urge to cry blubbered from deep inside me, but as I waited for a sob to escape my throat, none ever did. I felt globules of salt water distorting my sight, threatening to fall, but a few seconds later not a tear trickled down my cheeks. I didn't—couldn't—cry, despite that I wanted deeply to do so. It used to be my instinctive reaction, to break down, but now... the remorse was overpowering still, and guilt ate me up inside just as before, but it was as though I was used to it, numb to these sensations, anaesthetized to this old and recurring experience. Like I'd already been there, had already done that, and had already realized there was nothing I can do, that I was powerless to stop him.

Absolutely nothing, absolutely powerless.

Sasuke. It was his voice that broke through my thoughts, though it hadn't torn my attention away from the flight of stairs that appeared so ominous. Knelt down to my eye-level, on the floor directly in front of me, with his nose mere inches from brushing mine, he murmured, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," was my prompt and deadpan reply, which I supposed had failed to meet his satisfaction. Lacking the will and energy to put up a fight, I submitted into Sasuke's actions as he placed as hand under my chin and, in a firm but tender manner, forced me to look at him in the eye.

"Tell the truth."

"Then _no_," I groaned. Resting my elbows on each knee, I bowed my head and fretfully clutched my temples, hoping it would in some way help me get my thoughts together. It didn't. I was afraid I'd lose my mind embarrassingly in front of Sasuke. "No," I repeated forlornly, "Obviously, I'm not okay."

I felt his hands above my own, untangling and loosening my fingers one at a time, unpeeling them off my forehead before I clung any harder and ended up hurting myself. "What can I do?" he asked, the warmth of his breath tickling the bridge of my nose. He was that near. With his hands positioned on either side of me, propped on the edge of the settee on my left and right, his presence was suddenly encompassing, the feel of him so close to me. Like embracing without touch.

I shuddered, entranced by his smothering aura, by the radiating from his body. "You're doing it."

"Doesn't seem like enough."

But it was, I wanted to tell him.

Being here. It was more than enough.

Embossed on his face was a scowl, and though his brows were furrowed in rage, I had a feeling the sentiment was not meant for me. Seeing the way his lids shut, frustrated, like an inner battle was occurring in his mind at that very minute, I realized it was his own self that he was furious with—why he would be was a question I couldn't work out.

Sullen, he moved to lean his forehead on mine—an unconscious deed, I knew for a fact (because it most certainly did not seem like something he would do on purpose) but a soothing gesture nonetheless.

"_I'm sorry_," Sasuke growled. A smidgen of shame and an inaudible bit of revulsion was sprinkled atop the unexpected apology, but the display of emotion was swift and had waned in a mere bat of an eyelid. "I'm sorry I did that. I don't know why I thought you should see him for yourself. But what was I going to do? Walk up to you and say 'Hey, there's a dead man in your basement'?"

Silently, my orbs skimmed across his face, absorbing the rigidity of his shoulders, his tense but otherwise restrained expression, the fact that he refused to look at me and the way his chest faintly heaved up and down, in chorus with my own erratic heart... one did not have to be a genius to know the glimpse of Watkins had in fact shaken him as well, no matter how greatly he tried to maintain composure.

All of a sudden, I was ridden with guilt. It was on my account that he was here in the first place, on my account that he, too, was enmeshed into this ostensibly impossible matter. He had been in utmost control the night we'd discovered the cut up carcass of Suigetsu, but we all had our limits, and I supposed Sasuke had just reached his. On my account, once again.

What now? A voice asked in my subconsciousness, resonating above the uproar of my panicked mental state, of thoughts disordered and unintelligible. Notwithstanding the turbulence that ranted and raved in my head, progressively turning my brain into a malfunctioning slab of goo, I delved through what was left of my logic and tried to think up an answer to the unavoidable question. _What now?_

In view of our situation: the dead body in the lower floor, the lack of honest explanation as to how it had gotten there and why (with the necessity to omit the real culprit, whom we could identify undoubtedly, but explaining would be difficult, much more if we were to vindicate ourselves) and Sasuke who, in the face of his rattled morale, was still here; suddenly the fact that we were in a heap of complication was manifestly made known in black and white. The tiny detail that we happened to know the person deceased only made it worse and it did not help that Sasuke, who'd found the body first, loathed the older man.

From the countless overheard conversations and cases let slipped by my parents, who dealt with crimes on a frequent basis, I was certain the cops would not overlook that connection. It was exactly what they hunted for, and strained relationships in particular were considered a bonanza to investigators.

Hence, considering the unfavourable picture painted by the present circumstances, it was not hard to conjure up my next move—one that did not include ensnaring further Sasuke's taking part.

A touch tenderly grazed my cheek, and I realized a second later that the source of warmth was from Sasuke's fingers. "What are you thinking about?" He spoke when the silence, my silence, had stretched too long. With our foreheads still touching, he risked a glance and peeked at me through the narrowed eyes.

With a deep inhalation, I burst out, "You have to leave now, Sasuke." This rendered him to glare with a start, barefaced with bewilderment and opposition, yet I kept on perseveringly. "Right now," I demanded, "before I call the police. You need to get back to the group home. I'll... I'll wipe off all your prints, any trace of you. You were never here." I shut my eyes. "This is why I never wanted to get you so involved. This is a mess. A _huge_ mess. And it has nothing to do with you. So you have to go, okay? Please, Sasuke? Right now."

Sharp, depthless stones of onyx bore into my eyes unblinkingly. The look on his face was very sweet, protective. His response was plain and simple, short and forthright, final and without room for any arguments.

"I can't do that, Sakura."

* * *

Alternating flashes of red and blue episodically exploded through the window, the brilliance pulsating almost hypnotically against the pane, blinking at a rate that could in all probability enforce a seizure. The vibrant lights illumined the entire casement along with the drapery around it, bleeding through the lucent sheet of glass and into the simultaneous frenzies of my bedroom.

Through the casement, beams of the same hues glimmered and lit up the dark evening sky, interchanging at regular intervals: red, blue, red, blue—the pattern continuous and unchanging. Each swivelling ray was emitted from within the rotating beacons attached on top of the roofs of white-painted vehicles, including an ambulance (Useless, I thought, given that the only fatality here was already far beyond any sort of rescue) all of which were parked carelessly in the driveway. Some were colonized onto the lawn, rashly trampling the mowed grass, while others were beyond the resident enclosure, the anarchic disarray of automobiles blocking half the street.

The interior of the house, the second floor specifically, was just as much of a chaos as it was outside. I sat in my room, in the eye of the storm as everything in the region whizzed and whooshed with relentless motion and chattering. Strangers—tall, burly men; the typical short-and-stout characters; and daunting women with their stiff postures and tresses wound into inflexible buns—in navy blue uniforms, sauntered in and out of my room, back and forth along the hallway, and up and down the stairs, yet that was only a fraction of them. The larger remainder were indubitably two stories down, in the basement, "sweeping the scene", as my father called the process.

I surveyed in wordless abstraction the homogeneously garbed individuals loitering by the threshold, and another out in the corridor, their mouths moving concurrently in a muted dialogue. They discussed amongst one another, comparing notes, exchanging theories, and leaving me out, just as I preferred it. I'd given my statement twice already, and now every one of them was under the unspoken conformity that I was in no condition to be grilled any further.

For this reason it was Sasuke who had to endure the cross-examinations. He stood not too far away on the opposite side of the room, in deep conversation with another officer (the fourth he's spoken to). From the bed where I was seated, I had a clear view of him, and I knew he, too, had one of me.

For the umpteenth time that night, he looked away from the cop and flicked his eyes at my direction.

It was a tendency that had developed between us over the past hour of being apart.

The fleeting looks were frequent and routine, with intervals no more than a few minutes each; the same every time. Our gazes would lock for a split second, and once he'd reassured himself that I was still there, that I hadn't phenomenally slipped away from his line of vision (as if I actually could with the watchful radar he had on me) he would break our gaze, only to reconnect it once more a little later as the cycle repeated itself.

Though he had quickly been pulled aside for interrogation, an order he'd grudgingly complied to, Sasuke made a point of remaining within the area, out of earshot, as the officers necessitated, but in sight, as he appealed.

He and I were separated the minute the police had turned up and raided my home, arriving with a brash entrance: an invading wave of the uniformed and armed—but it wasn't as though they were uninvited. Sasuke had dialled the hackneyed three-digit emergency line abruptly after my attempt to boot him out had miserably, predictably, romantically, failed. Within a span of five minutes, sirens had breached the midnight hush of the neighbourhood. Sasuke had considerately brought me upstairs, farthest from the basement where the majority of police officers amassed.

It had already been an hour since then, sixty minutes, three-thousand six-hundred seconds at the least from the time the foray of examinations had initiated. And yet, thus far, the buzz hadn't died down. Not the slightest.

Another glance. A brief eye-contact.

Then the gangly officer alongside Sasuke flipped close the notepad he had in hand and shoved it in the pockets of his black standardized trousers, finally discharging the younger, impatient-looking boy.

Averting the second he was allowed to do so, Sasuke turned from the cop and moved across the room, his fixed, cast-iron stare upon me a dead giveaway of his intended destination. Within a matter of seconds, he planted himself by the edge of the bed where I presently sat.

"Are they done?" I asked, referring to the nonstop interviews he'd had no choice but to undertake repetitiously.

"I hope." He grunted, collapsing next to me. Beneath us the mattress bounded and rebounded at the sudden load, and I was sprung correspondingly. The motion slid me closer to Sasuke, bringing our shoulders to converge with feathery lightness. He stiffened at the contact but did not squirm away. Neither did I.

The quietude was ephemeral, disrupted as an officer, a different one, beefier than whom Sasuke had previously spoken to, entered the room and approached us. Papers, their every centimetre jacketed with words in black ink, were wedged between his fingers, held out assertively in front of him in a manner almost rehearsed, his features solidified from years of following the same, monotonous system.

"Uchiha Sasuke?" inquired the cop, peeking at his notes for clarification.

At the mention of his name, Sasuke sat up. "Yeah?"

"Sorry to interrupt," he said without genuinely meaning it. "But I'll need you to reconfirm your account of tonight's events. Will we step outside the room so you can read over your statement?"

"We can do it right here," Sasuke suggested incontestably, but the officer was having none of it.

His eyes flickered towards me as he stated, "This is confidential, sir. Your statement is to be kept classified, especially with other parties present at the time of the scene."

Silence. Then, "Are you freaking serious?" spat Sasuke in an irritated voice, undaunted at the brute force depicted by the officer standing before us, tall and belittling. The glower etched on the older man's face intensified, and instantly it occurred to me that maddening him would not be a good idea.

"Sasuke," I butted in, meaning to put an end to the Uchiha's tenacity. Unfortunately, my interposition only posed a reason for Sasuke to redirect his ocular daggers at me.

"What?" he snapped. I knew he was fed up with reiterating the same story time and again, but I also knew that the practice was part of procedure: affirming and reaffirming one's account to detect any inconsistency—which was, I recognized owing to my parents' occupations, an evidence of falsehood. Going by the book, I knew this stage (though seemingly a waste of time) bore its own importance.

"Just go," I told him importunately.

Sasuke looked at me, his eyes weary, bleary. Heaving a deep, surrendering sigh, he pinched the bridge of his noise. "I'll be back in five minutes or less."

I nodded. "Okay."

Disgruntled, he got to his feet and followed the officer out of the room. At that moment, as I let my eyes browse the proximate area, I realized Sasuke had been the only familiar face in the crowd, and with him gone, I was now in the company of strangers, people I've never once seen until now who occupied the domicile with such a homely manner that it no longer felt like _my_ home.

The quantity of police officers meandering about should have come to me as a relief, an impression of safety, but I knew the real reason they were here was not for me and Sasuke, but rather for the carcass suspended down in the crypt. There was nothing comforting in their presence—if anything, I felt a little invaded.

And anyway, it wasn't as if their numbers would be enough to keep the Rogue at bay.

As if on instincts, my eyes spontaneously grazed the broad window, the pane still twinkling cyclical sparks of the darker two primary colors. A misty voice in my head wondered, if I were to get up, reallocate towards the casement and push aside the drooping curtains, what would I see? Would he be there, standing in wait, for me?

As these deliberations struck, I suddenly found myself rising. In a daze, I mechanically moved athwart the room, my eyes glued upon the differing lights of blue and red, azure and crimson, cerulean and scarlet. Before long I halted a measly foot away from the dually bright transom.

And then, against my better judgement, I reached out and swept the silky hangings to the left. The panorama of my front yard displayed from corner to corner of the glass. In addition to the cop cars that dotted the area were lines of snooping onlookers, skittering by the edges of the lane. Pyjama-clothed neighbours scampered out of their front doors to see what the circus was about, curious but never concerned.

At the verge of the bright lights that had the entire place glowing, tucked underneath the forest's rims where the shrubbery foliage sprung up into high conifers, gloom spanned bleakly and at length, blanketing everything else that lay beyond the light in a dark, impenetrable fabric. The faces of bystanders close enough to the brightness shone, but those in a distance were shrouded in the deep hours of darkness.

Everything was as static as night—that was, until movement flickered just out the corner of my eye. I froze, squinting through the smog on the transparent surface.

A figure came forward, revealing itself from the shadows. He did not joined the spectators for an inquisitive look; as an alternative, he observed what was enfolding before him without any bafflement, without any surprise, and straight away I became conscious of the fact that he was unlike the rest. This intuition was only fortified when he, in a slow, agonizing pace, raised his head and faced me.

I stilled. The mist on the glass thickened as my breathing grew heavier, and, edgily, I wiped the vapour away with tremulous fingers. As I peered again through the windowpane, he was still there, his eyes still transfixed on me with eerie precision.

Instinct told me to gasp, or scream or jolt; however before I could act on any of these, he turned away, breaking his gaze. I was not given a chance to let out the breath I'd been unawarely holding, for in the same instant, he took a step and began to make his way towards... dread filled me whole.

At the outset, I didn't know where he was headed; perhaps to leave after having seen enough, or having been bored of the hubbub taking place, but when he crossed the street and manoeuvred around the white vehicles arbitrarily parked all over my yard, his destination no longer became a mystery to me.

A hammer struck from within my chest, a bolt of an unsteady heartbeat.

He was headed _here_.

I searched the region, my gaze flying—surely someone would spot him? Added together the way he carried himself so offhandedly and the amount of people present, he was not exactly the epitome of stealth. But no one noticed.

My nerves grew frenetic. A few police officers were strewn about, but they were useless as he crept right under their noses, behind their backs. _Someone stop him! _screamed a voice in my head, for I knew exactly who he was. How he moved, so frighteningly confidently, faceless and unstoppable.

Once more he looked at me, standing before the small staircase of the porch. A smile was carved on his face like an engraving on a tombstone, and in the lethal depths of this smirk, a threat underlay. His orbs twinkled with pleasure, exuding his sickening sense of humour, as he stepped onto the veranda...

...And walked through the front door.

* * *

"Sakura." I whirled around and came face-to-face with a chary-looking Sasuke, whose eyes instantly thinned at my agitations. Sensing my instability, he questioned not what I was doing by the sill and grabbed me by the arm instead. I was dragged back to the center of the room and was pushed, tenderly, on the bed. "Sit," he murmured. "What's wrong? You're shaking."

Involuntarily, I glanced back at the window. No one had noticed him; no one had seen him. Was it only a figment of trauma? My paranoid mind playing games on me? It couldn't be. The intensity of his stare, the spine-chilling barrenness of his smile... it was real. The threat and enmity had pierced through my skin and shook me to the bone. It was real, I thought to myself again, and he's inside the house.

"It was him, wasn't it?" For a moment I thought he was talking about the man outside, that he had seen him too, but before I could voice these thoughts he went on, "He killed Watkins, hung him downstairs. It was him." Out of the gravity of the moment, I found myself thinking, "_Well, no duh._" Was he only figuring that out now?

"Look I was thinking," he began, his voice low and careful in case any of the officers overheard. "Rogue—maybe he's one of Orochimaru's recruits. In the first few times you talked to him, you said he was keeping you quiet. That was him, then, working for this criminal. Sakura, this guy's the closest thing we have to finding the Rogue." In the fringes of my vision, a subtle motion caught my attention. I turned to look, but found only the soft swinging of my closet door.

Other than the sole officers down the hall, with his nose buried into a notebook, all the rest had seemed to have retreated to where the real action was—the basement.

"We can look into it more," Sasuke continued. "Shikamaru can hack into computers. Give him an email and he can turn it into an IP address. We'll look for documents, transactions. You know the Rogue, don't you? All we have to find is a familiar name in the records."

I remained silent, letting his words and what he was trying to tell me settle for my conception, which was at the moment slow on the uptake. _Look into it more_, he said; dig deeper, he meant. Immediately I thought back to the hanging corpse of Rei Watkins. In my head, the picture doubled, and then tripled, until the bodies began to multiply, pushing against the inside of my skull from the overload. I shook my head, ridding the illusion.

"Sasuke, what if... what if we're only making things worse? Adding fuel to the fire? The Rogue—once his patience runs out, he kills, without any warning or reason."

"I don't see any other option," Sasuke retorted, irritated.

"But what if what we're doing only kills more people?"

"Then what the hell do you have in mind?" he suddenly barked. "Sit around and wait for death to come to _you_?"

"Well—"

"If you think I'd ever let that happen," His eyes, ablaze with anger and disbelief, bore into mine. "then you're an _idiot_."

But before I could melt or falter at his words, my entire body froze as the glowing computer screen caught my eye.

In the corner of the display, tucked beneath other windows, was an image of an alley that struck a chord in my mind, the setting all too familiar.

"Sasuke," I whispered, "It's the alley."

* * *

**Unknown**

Undetected amidst the darkest spot in the room, hidden by a concentrated veil of shadows, he stood back and watched the oblivious twosome through the horizontal slits of the swing doors.

It was rather effortless, really, to sneak inside the sizable abode. Assimilation was the key. Once he'd threw on a pair of dark slacks and found a uniform jacket lying around the sitting room, he blended in quite well. He received not an iota of suspicion from the officers moseying about the girl's house.

He had even stared at one in the eye.

"Have you been brief about the casualty?" The cop had asked.

"No, sir, I'm heading down there right now."

There was not a flare of misgiving about his identity. They had failed to see the diminutive detail that he looked too young to be in the force, never mind the fact that he hadn't an ID on him. Pity they were not familiar with their own people. If they were, the stupid fuzz would have busted him right off the bat. Luck was on his side he supposed, not that he needed the good fortune.

He held life and death in his hands, and a power as such overrode all else.

Satisfied with this actuality, he let his attention fall back on the pair at the chamber's center. Only a moment prior to, they were engaged in discussion, far too engrossed and unmindful of their milieu, which played well for him as he flitted into the bedroom.

But the girl was no longer listening to Uchiha. Her entire body had solidified, her eyes glazed with a perplexed shock, her mind perceptibly adrift in a reverie as she stared at a direction other than Uchiha's. The boy noticed too, and in unison they followed Sakura's gaze to the LCD placed on her desk.

Several windows abound the screen at once, comparatively a collage of internet pages; articles, blogs and reports, all on the subject of Orochimaru's past and present activities—all of which were illegal. He was knowledgeable about their endeavours to try and find the filthy Snake, in order to get to _himself_, though it was futile. He also knew that it would not be a very long time before their poking around would finally incense the bastard, then the serpent would end up interceding his little game—and that, of course, would become a displeasure to himself.

He didn't fancy sharing his prey, his plaything.

Sakura was _his_ and his alone.

She was still gaping at the monitor as she rose to her feet and walked to the table. There were numerous windows, yet he knew what the girl was looking at, the specific image upon which her eyes were glued.

He smiled.

Barely discernible, half-covered by a box that took up most of the display (an article exhibiting the madman's graveyard laboratory) in the bottom left corner, was another link of a page.

**Mugging suspected to be a gang-affiliated murder **the Metropolitan Media (Konoha, LF)

The article was recent, published within the month, but he needed not to glance at the date for this little knowledge. He knew the event, had a first-hand account of what happened. He knew this, for he'd been a participant.

On the page was a picture of the incident's whereabouts. As expected, the girl clicked to enlarge the photograph. It was of a back lane, confined by high brick walls on either side, hideously decorated with illegible graffiti. The ground was plastered with grim and soiled puddles, and off the sharply angled corner, the classic blue dumpster that was never unloaded, forgotten and excluded now by garbage circulations.

At the very end of the passage: a dead end, but a spacious one at that, and useful, as no one ever went there. The adjacent buildings were entirely of brick, with no windows facing the god-forsaken alley.

There was no one to see, no one to hear—these attributes were the reason for his often use of the site. Its conditions were quite perfect for the times he dealt with quarries.

"_Sasuke, it's the alley."_

Of course. The place was where it all began. It was where he'd first caught sight of her, and she of him—though she was not aware of it at the time.

The filthy snake only took interest in her to make certain of her silence, but he, on the other hand, was hooked the moment she scurried away so helplessly, so frightened.

Her fear was quite empowering.

If truth be told, everything about her fascinated him, to a point one would call almost obsessive. But ah, he's had enough fun for tonight. The number of cops had diminished and was continually lessening, which would mean retaining his anonymity would be a little harder. It was time to leave.

His eyes glanced around, committing to memory his environs—garments in hangers, racks packed with footwear of all kinds, and then there were her snapshots, glued upon every available space on the wall. The images were of the girl and her friends, though he only paid heed to _her _picture, and_ her _features. He didn't want to leave, but all the same, it wasn't as if her wardrobe was anything new to him. There wasn't an inch of it he hadn't already perused through.

It was not the first time he'd hid inside her closet.

It did, after all, have the greatest vantage point to her bedroom.

* * *

_Memo: Something cool? In History, we're learning about Korea during the Cold War & what led to the split, and it just so happens that all that stuff is going on with North & South Korea at the same time. Talk about relevant. Part of our lesson was watching the CNN news. Crazy. Actually, it's pretty scary. Now I understand how serious things are. Trust me, it almost seems better not knowing..._

_Anyway, I would LOVE to read all your rants about the fluffs =) Makes me think I've deprived you too much of it. lol __**Read and... Rant? and Thank You!**_

_Indebted to such a wonderful set of readers & reviewers,  
__Keelah_

_Completely off topic: who cried when watching L die in Death Note? And who BAWLED THEIR EYES OUT when watching the end of L: Change the World?  
__Now every time I listen to "I'll be Waiting" I think of L... =(_

* * *

_Ace:__ Your "criticism" scared me at first, and then I went on reading, then I was like Awww! Lol Thank you so much. Your words meant a lot. Am I gonna be a novelist? It's my dream career, but sadly, it's like saying I'm gonna be a singer. It's not realistic. But I __**am**__ planning to take English in university, so who knows, maybe someday down the road while teaching a Creative Writing course in post-secondary, I'll publish something. =)_


	45. A Game Piece No Longer

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_Anti-predator adaptations:_

_Evolutionary adaptations result over time, assisting prey organisms in their constant struggle against predators. Quarries develop defences to counter the creatures of the food chain's higher levels, eventually adapting to their natural marauders._

_It was time I adapted to mine._

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter FORTY FOUR  
**__**A Game Piece No Longer**_

The following day was without sensation.

At least, it felt so from my angle, through weary eyes below which were prominent folds of skin, shady circles that conveyed how little hours of sleep I'd gotten the previous night. My sight, already unfocused, was blurred and limited as its lids were permanently half-closed, and it seemed as though despite all attempts to widen them awake, these folds remained lifeless at midpoint.

A short, fearsome movie had replayed itself in my mind, the broken film duplicating each time my eyes fell shut, hauntingly inescapable both in slumber and restless consciousness. Though I hadn't seen with my own eyes how it took place, I could almost visualize the Rogue's adept hands, sickeningly practiced as he hauled the unconscious victim over his shoulder, slotting in the elder's head through the unyielding loop of strong cord.

The vision of Watkins struggling, clawing at the ligature around his throat, had been more than enough to have me tossing and turning all night. His otherworldly presence two floors underneath my bed was more than enough to keep me wakeful during the hours of darkness—not that I was restive at the idea of his supposed spirit remaining after death.

Ghosts, I did not fear. I grew up taught that the illusory, non-matter phantoms, while a frightening thought, were not something to be scared of, but rather it was the ones _alive_ that I should be cautious about; that serial killers, psychotic torturers and kidnappers were who I should fear the most. I understood that now more than ever, what with having a psycho-killer of my own, a personal madman that was, regrettably, very much _alive_.

It was not so much the wraithlike idea of Watkins that kept me up for hours as it was the guilt that became of it. After a million shots of the body and the immediate vicinity, it had been carted off by a team of forensics, real-life CSIs who hadn't left my house until an hour past midnight. Regardless that the corpse had been removed physically, its essence lingered in my subconsciousness, spiking up my nervous system to a maximum scale. Thus, sleep had come scarcely, if it had at all.

A modest touch of cosmetics would have concealed the evidence of fatigue, but the night's insomnia had emptied all banks of my energy, and as of this morning I'd been too tired to put on a front. I figured my behaviour for the day, or rather the dreary lack of it, would easily transmit the message even with the mask of makeup. And right, I was.

Students of the Academy stirred clear off my path and left me be. They would stare for a split second once under the impression that their ogles were out of eyeshot (when they were not) and walk away, a trail of murmurs in the air, my passing by eliciting the faintest of whispers. Though the morning bulletin did not specifically mention the house's occupant's name where the body was found, they did broadcast an image of my home—which, in my opinion, was a dead-giveaway.

Houses in the Estate, where I lived, were nearly identical by size and structure: the same style, the same design and exterior, the same a placid suburban feel. It wasn't very hard for the public to figure out whose house was televised.

Plus, there were only two secondary schools within half a mile's radius, one private and the other public, and so rumours spread quickly. According to the grapevine, Rei Watkins, an instructor of Law and Civics in the Hidden Leaves Academy, was found dead in a student's home of the same high school. Some interpreted it as suicide; others insisted he was slain, the hanging staged to cover the murder; a few thought I had murdered the educator myself, out of spite for having failed his class—which was impracticable, given that I'd never bombed anything in my life.

But these rumours were not far from the truth, and hearing of it throughout the morning promoted my deadened state. Numbness was all I felt, and nothingness all that elapsed in my head, even as Ino prattled on about the wonderful time she'd had with a particular brunette.

I let my mind wander elsewhere, picking up only the main points of her narrative while turning all else into an indecipherable drone. After redirecting her attention from what she'd been so focused on at the food court, the two actually had a great time—or so she described. Something about a coincidence of their fathers knowing each other, old college mates, and I bobbed my head, inserting a nod or two where it seemed appropriate. I was glad when we parted, Ino taking with her the incessant nattering and leaving myself to vie with the human stampede.

I've been at this unchanged, repetitive routine for just however many murders the Rogue had accomplished. It wasn't exactly unfamiliar domain. In some misshapen way, I was getting used to this sick, rhythmic death cycle that had become my everyday ritual. Acclimatization was what it was, I supposed: growing accustomed to a new climate or environment—a deadly environment, in my case. Having gone through it six times now, I was familiar with the drill, knew it as I did the back of my hand.

And so, finding the Rogue's sinister presence in the form of a photograph suspended from the ceiling of my locker, troubling as it was, had not been a surprise.

The unsettling image greeted me as the movable panel of steel swung open, ironically hovering airborne at the center of the vertical compartment by a thick thread attached above, around the width of the snapshot wrapped a russet cord—a satirical re-enactment. After every kill the bloodcurdling gift of the Rogue's, a grotesque picture, was next in the sequence of our Death Game. He presented a detailed visual of his most recent delightful extermination, adding to the anthology of mementos he insisted I kept, as if the substantial image would be any clearer than the one inscribed on my conscience.

Ignorant to the plentiful stream of students and their boisterous chinwag, I stared at the photograph unflinchingly. The image was taken merely seconds after Watkin's passing away. Abstracted as I was, the quiet emergence of someone next to me slipped past my notice, and only when movement flashed in the corner of my eye did I realize I was not alone anymore. Grimacing, I squirmed away from the intensity of the gaze that bore into the side of my head and turned.

Propped against the silver door of the adjacent cubbyhole...

...was Sasuke.

I didn't jump. I acknowledged his sudden appearance unemotionally, as though each nerve ending in my body had burned away to numbness, and looked back at him under the hazy influence of anaesthesia that even the most volatile jolt wouldn't have had me startled. Sasuke raised a questioning brow, and his orbs, which were astoundingly expressive in the few times he allowed them to be, spangled against the fluorescence, the black oceans transmitting words through the briefest contact of our eyes. I seized the picture in my locker and thrust it in his direction.

Regardless of how the night before had thrown off balance his frigid mask of composure, he was utterly in control now, vastly dissimilar from how he was when he left the house at a quarter past twelve, bowled over and speechless. He stared hard at the chilling portrait. "I'm sorry."

Sasuke was sorry. Cops the night before who treated me like a trouble-making teenager had instead offered subtle glances of pity. They, too, were sorry for me.

But I'd had enough of the sympathies.

Vulnerability, a dominion I'd roamed in for the past month, sputtered away to withering embers, dying out inside me slowly but steadily. All this time I'd viewed things in the wrong light, thought that with every torment the Rogue threw at me I grew weaker. But what I hadn't realized was that every impediment, every trauma, could strengthen me as much as weaken me. With every death that gnawed at my sense of right and wrong and every threat and horror inflicted by the Rogue, I came out of the torture a little stronger, a little tougher, a little sharper. I knew his ways now, how he worked, his malicious mentality and irrational, impatient character.

I was used to him.

They say skin burnt in a fire repaired itself new and improved, a scalded, but tougher layer of epidermis prepared to take on the next acerbic blaze.

Calluses formed after repeated friction and pressure, hard, thickened areas of skin developed to withstand more.

Human bones, when broken, healed with a new set sturdier than the last.

It was nature's way of recovering. Though it was more than just healing: it was betterment too, adaptation, making us tougher and stronger than before, less easily hurt, less easily destabilized.

Now more than ever, I felt compelled to do something—_anything,_ because I couldn't go on like this: relentlessly looking over my shoulder, serving as an automaton of fear, a marionette defencelessly attached to the Rogue's influential fingers with unbreakable strings. Even the smallest of preys did not forever hide from their wicked, looming predators.

And then, in that very moment, decision glimmered in my eyes.

"I need to go to that alley," I announced out loud to myself. "The one in the internet article. That's where he does it, Sasuke. That's where he brought Dosu, and Karin, and Kin, and who knows who else he killed in that lane. I have to check it out."

When no reply issued from his end, I turned for a sidelong peek at Sasuke. He wore a frown on his face and creases on his forehead, lines that exposed his deliberation over my brash proposal.

"It's too dangerous," he retorted, shooting down my idea in a second flat. "You don't know who this guy is, or what he might do to you once he—"

"I'm going anyway, whether you approve of it or not."

The frown on his features deepened, as though the idea disturbed him, as if the thought of me heading into the Rogue's lair alone unsettled him, as though he actually cared. A part of me had a hard time believing that; another part thought of the night before and realized it wasn't all that impossible.

"You don't have to come with me. That's your choice."

An exasperated sigh escaped Sasuke's lips. "I wouldn't let you go on your own," he told me with a droll, but the way his eyes were firm on mine, hardened with sedateness, proved he meant every word. "You know that." I did.

"This weekend," he stated; "Friday?"

"Right after school," I determined, but to my dismay, Sasuke whipped his head from side to side.

"I've got work. We can meet up in the evening."

"Wait—no." The two-letter word was out of my mouth before I could think the better of it. The fact that I already had somewhere to go on Friday night had occurred to my subconsciousness; at Sasuke's proposal, I was instantly reminded of my already existing arrangement with Gaara. "I can't."

He did none but stare at me. "Why not?"

"I'm..." I struggled for an appropriate explanation. The barefaced truth to his inquiry would more than irritate him, as was his instinctive response whenever the area under discussion involved the mentioning of a particular redhead (as well as a particular _artist_, come to think of it) "...going somewhere," I finished lamely.

"Where?"

"Out?" I proffered, exasperated at having to explain myself. "I'm going out."

"On a _date_?" Sasuke rephrased; the last syllable heavy with scepticism, as though the notion of my having a date was too impossible to comprehend for him. I glared, but the optical daggers had far from intimidated the Uchiha's audacity. He only shook his head. "After that, then."

"I don't know when I'll be back."

"What are you planning on doing that takes _the whole_ _night_?"

I gaped. "It's not—it's not like that."

His eyes rolled behind half-closed lids in a frustrated manner. "My shift doesn't end till ten," he said anyway. "I'll wait up for you."

I didn't object. I was determined to do this, and I wouldn't let any other plans eclipse the grave situation at hand. No matter how much I fancied the thought of being with Gaara, the shadowy Rogue and an enigmatic back lane shone unavoidably with beams of death and danger. It was difficult to ignore something as horrific as such when the ghostly thought of it lingered in the farthest grottos of my brain, a disastrous storm impending, an imminent gloom and dusk out of which would emerge my worst nightmares... faint, yet sinisterly omnipresent.

And just like that, I knew my next move was ready for launch.

The ball was in my court.

You see, to be able to play any sort of a board game, logically, you'll need two main things: the player and the representing token, also known as: a game piece.

But understand there is a third party that have, up to this point, been forgotten and overlooked.

That tertiary participant is called an _opponent_.

A game piece is the object the player controls to be able to carry through and play the game.

An opponent is, according to the dictionary, an adversary in contest; someone who plays, fights and competes: a competitor on a par, an equal that counterbalances the injustice of the game and game piece concept.

As a consequence of the new threat, the player in the process would not enjoy the game as much as he had before, because it would no longer go in perfect accordance to his liking.

The token, a mere nonliving thing, now had the ability to object.

The player was no longer in control,

The game piece no longer only follows.

In this little game that I was involuntarily playing in,

_He_ was the player...

"_Okay then," I affirmed. "Friday, it is."_

...And _I_ was his opponent.

* * *

I found myself simultaneously anticipating and dreading for the week to end.

Before long, the days of waiting eventually receded, and far too soon for my comfort Friday rolled around the corner—or, more specifically, a pickup truck did.

Shafts of light appeared as it came around the enormous houses down the block, two gleaming blotches of bright yellows and whites illumining the dark boulevard. As I watched the unfamiliar vehicle pulling up onto the paved driveway in front of my abode, I was puzzled, stupefaction flittering subconsciously in the back of my head. Either the foreign automobile was planning a U-turn, or the people inside it had gotten the wrong house.

Or maybe they hadn't; maybe they wanted to see for their own prying eyes the residence that had housed a dead body only three days ago—not an uncommon occurrence, might I parenthetically add. Vehicles I'd never seen before, ones that I was certain did not belong to any of the neighbouring occupants, drove by every now and then, conspicuously slowing down and then picking up speed once their ogles were appeased.

When the humming noise of the motor abated, and the headlights switched off, I realized the truck had parked—something that volte-facing cars, lost drivers and spectators did not do. I wondered then if I was in for another visit from the police. Two men in uniform had dropped in yesterday to take my account for Tuesday night, and it would be unsurprising to find them back for a reaffirmation. Then again, cops generally did not drive pickups.

The door of the driver's side swung open, revealing from the evening shadows a vivid mop of hair, its colour an intense claret tone. As the hue bore into the back of my retinas, it finally occurred to me just who it was. I glanced at the alarm clock atop one of the side-tables.

7:58PM. Perfect timing.

I ran a hasty hand through my carnation hair, giving volume to the slightly curled tresses as my fingers orchestrated the locks into sophisticated disorder. I bit my lips together and licked them, reddening it to a natural glistening scarlet without the need of artificial gloss: a technique I'd taught myself, having an intolerable relationship with cosmetics.

The sound of a car door slamming shut echoed from below, and after checking my reflection one last time, I grabbed the gold-rimmed clutch splayed ready on the mattress, flew out my room and down the stairs. The doorbell rang as I arrived at the bottom of the steps, the chimes of two consecutive notes resonating throughout the house, an aural indication of Gaara's presence at the entryway. Smoothening out any crinkles on my outfit, I took a deep breath and swung open the double panels.

A vibrant shade of crimson materialized into view, short and bristly locks topping Gaara's astounded expression. His eyes were pleasantly stunned, his lips slightly agape in disbelief. Following his gaze with my own, I found myself peering down at the outfit I'd taken a half hour to piece together.

The set of clothes hadn't seemed too elaborate a minute ago, but put alongside Gaara (whose suave T-shirt, jeans and jacket made me look like I was headed to a club than the movie theatres), I wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe the high-heeled sandals had driven over the edge my attempt for simplicity. "Am I too dressy?" I asked sheepishly. "If I am, I can change. If you think I'm overdressed—"

"No." Gaara's head shook, interrupting the panicky babble from lengthening any longer. "I think you're perfect."

_Boom_ went my heart; palpitating uncontrollably that it was a wonder he hadn't yet heard its erratic beat. Oblivious to the blood-pumping organ that threatened to break out of my rib cage, Gaara stretched out an open palm, bailing me out of having to respond to his startlingly blatant praise. "Are you ready to go?" He asked, looking into my eyes.

I blew out a breath, recouping composure, and lay my hand in his. "Yes." Tugged down the grand stairway of the porch, I left behind my worries, my thoughts on the quest certain to be inauspicious only hours away, as I was hauled to our ride.

The black gloss of the pickup was lustrous against the glow of the brightly lit veranda. Graciously, in such a courteous way that Sasuke would never do, (I couldn't help but compare) Gaara reached for the passenger's door and held it open for me, a subtle grin on his lips.

The instant I hopped inside, my eyes involuntarily skimmed the unblemished surfaces of the dashboard and a high-wrought audio system ornamented before me, taking in the squeakiness of the leather coverings and the vacuumed interior of the floors. The distinctive aroma of newly-bought cars tickled my sense of smell. If I didn't know better, I would have thought Gaara had stolen this right out of a Dodge showroom.

"Nice car," I remarked as he settled into the driver's seat beside me.

"Thanks. It was a gift for my seventeenth birthday." Apparently unlike me, who had been asking for a car since the turn of her sweet sixteen. Unfortunately, the request was one my parents had denied, stating that I wasn't responsible enough to manage an automobile of my own, regardless of the fact that I was a perfectly safe driver (and regardless of the fact that I hadn't my license yet).

I watched as he turned the key, awakening the engine. The truck roared to life as it vibrated softly beneath us and, placing a hand behind my headrest, his fingers accidentally brushing my hair with feathery lightness, Gaara reversed out onto the street. I had to admit, I was quite surprised at the fact that this truck was all his. It was biased to think his current circle of friends were all less fortunate, I knew; but picturing several delinquents residing in a communal group home, it was hard not to place that particular judgement.

"My family's...capable," he explained, no doubt reading my countenance. "Financially, I mean. My father's... a politician in Sunagakure."

"_Really_?" I blurted unintelligently, as though he would ever lie about something like that when I was practically riding the evidence.

Besides, Gaara wouldn't lie to me. It simply wasn't like him.

"Yes," he replied simply, the topic evidently unimpressive to him. "He was... the fourth leader. I'm sure you've heard of him."

I racked my memory and instigated one wherein my parents and I sat around the living room's LCD, their faces shocked and horrified upon hearing about assassination of Sand's leader. I was only six at the time and the evening headlines had meant nothing to me then. Now, however, my eyes widened, the reaction ten years delayed. "I'm sorry."

"That's alright."

"I had no idea. I mean, he was... he was you're _father_?" At my incredulous exclamation, he all but shrugged. "You could've warned me," I said snidely.

His knuckles whitened, though before I had the chance to wonder why, he muttered, "I don't talk about him much." A beat of silence elapsed before Gaara elaborated, "...he wasn't a very good father."

Way to go, Sakura, I thought. "How come I've never seen you use it?" I questioned, stirring the conversation to a safer matter. "The car, I mean."

"I'm under house arrest, Sakura." said Gaara, the weightlessness back in his intonation, lifting the atmosphere. "I can't exactly do whatever and go wherever I want. Morino will kill me." He paused, as if suddenly remembering something. "Speaking of, I need to be home by eleven. Restrictions, sorry." He gave me an apologetic sideward glance before flicking his attention back on the road. "That okay with you?"

"It's okay." I replied, subconsciously noting that I had an even earlier curfew than his. I'd arranged to meet Sasuke after he got out of work. His shift ended at ten, a little after which he and I were to congregate at the city centre. Of course, I did not dare mention this to Gaara.

I dreaded going to that alley anyway.

"You know," Gaara carried on, his voice drawing me down to earth, back inside his shiny pick-up and black leathered seats. "I practically had to beg to go out tonight."

Pushing out of mind my worrisome thoughts, I turned to Gaara. "Really?" I piped, eyeing him playfully through narrowed slits. "I'm _that_ important to you?"

"Of course you are," he responded teasingly.

"You didn't have to say that," I laughed, rolling my eyes. "I was kidding, by the way."

It was then that we first fell into thick silence, though not one that was uncomfortable in any way. The kind of stillness that befell between us was mellow and unruffled, without the pressure and rush of having to fill in those gaps of wordlessness. Only the constant hum of the engine was present, and the soft, slow rock songs of the radio in the background.

Suddenly, his voice arose from the quietude, breaking the dreamlike trance.

"And I wasn't," His gaze flicked to meet mine, and against the orange glint of the streetlamps I spotted the smirk curved at the corners of his lips. "By the way."

I realized then that this was one of the few shots of normalcy I've experienced in a long, long time, one that was uncontaminated by the deathly skeleton claws of the villainous, mysterious Rogue.

Gaara was the one thing left untouched by the Rogue's hands, standing just outside of these messy entanglements. Spending some time with him would unwind my nerves, I thought. This evening would be problem-free, fearless, unhurried and without worry, at least until I'd have to meet up with Sasuke and return to reality's harsh dimension. But until then, I allowed myself this temporary piece of perfection, this small portion of impermanent bliss.

But as the saying goes, once at the top, there was nowhere else to go but down.

Little had I known at the time about the tiny little fact that I was wholly, reversely and entirely...wrong.

That everything, from thereon, was only about to plunge downhill—steep and fast.

* * *

_**Unknown**_

Ornate draperies of rich sapphires hung gracefully from the sky-high ceilings, framing the sides of each broad windowpane with thick velvets, pushed to either edge to give way to a stunning sight of stars. Millions of them dotted the conversely black heavens, like fireflies stuck on the cloak of night, exposed without any sort of obscuration. There were not any city lights nearby to shroud the bright, astronomical specks of space, nor were there sounds of heavy, frustrated traffic to intrude the present hush, as the metropolis was miles away.

In contrast to the darkness that was outside, the place's interior glowed with countless lights and glimmered with innumerable sparkles. At the center of the large area that was dressed in sophistication, an elegant glass chandelier containing thousands of tiny diamonds dangled from above, lightening the entire restaurant with a warm yellow-orange radiance.

Round, ivory-clothed tables were sparsely spread across the plush carpeting, each flanked by two chairs clad in indigo fabric. As the table's showpiece, slender candles of the same hues as the dominant motif stood delicately in the center, bedecked in silver stands.

A cold waft breezed into the room from the opening of the lobby doors.

He watched them, watched _her_. She fidgeted comfortably, though as she was led towards a table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the girl strode with a ballerina's poise, fiery as red despite her uncertainties.

Beautiful, she was.

And she was his. His, and his alone.

What the fuck that pawn was doing, he didn't know, but that didn't matter. No one could save the girl from himself. No one. She would forever be his femme, his prey, his masterpiece, his—

Smithereens of glass exploded in his hand.

Looking down, he saw the stained shards of what was once a champagne coupe dispersed across the black marble counter, an ugly fusion of crimson blotches and glittering, crystal splinters. Slowly, upon noticing his tautly balled left fist, he unclenched one digit at a time until his palm was stretched open before him.

Indifferently, unblinkingly, he stared at the deep gash incised diagonally into his hand, out of which a piece of glass protruded. Blotches of crimson covered his palm, fingers and oozed onto the floor.

Then, gazing back toward the girl—his femme, his prey and masterpiece—he smiled.

Soon, it would be _her_ blood trickling through his fingers.

Fiery _red_ and _beautiful_.

* * *

_Memo: TA-DA! No, I'm not dead. Well, my head exploded from all the exams, scholarships, 2 jobs & projects. I'm sorry for disappearing, but all the same: I'm still here. I said I wasn't gonna abandon this story. I won't pull off what so many authors in this site do._

_So, please, the "where the hell are you?" "I'm so disappointed, you let me down" comments? Not motivating. It does the opposite effect. Sad thing is, there's more than 450 of you yet less than a tenth take the time to review. A chapter takes me tens of hours, days and days to finish. For all the time & effort I put in this story, I only ask for 10 to 30 seconds of your time to send in feedbacks. Let me know you're actually reading this._

_On the brighter side of things, to y'all you helped me reached **2011 reviews by 2011 **(ahaha) I owe you my gratitude. In fact, all the other peepz whom I never hear from owe you as well, because you guys are the reason I update. Thank you, thank you, and... oh, thank you! =)_

_Back to conjugating French verbs,_  
_Keelah_

_(Wanna hear about my Christmas break? So I spent hours (HOURS) researching for this scholarship essay, ended up with pages of evidence and arguments, only to find out the freaking essay was actually only...ready? Ready for this?_

_350 words._

_350 words is half of my freaking intro paragraph._

_I think I broke my brain. )_


	46. Harmless

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_At the sight of him, my uneasiness dissipated. The qualms that have been badgering my nerves were pushed in the back of my mind and willed to be forgotten._

_For the first time in over a month, it didn't feel like I was self-destructing. _

* * *

_**Chapter FORTY FIVE  
**__**Harmless**_

"I'm underdressed," I claimed again for the second time that evening, my eyes darting about the extensive ballroom-like space, a scenic mélange of blues, whites and silvers. It was all I could do not to gawk at the majestic crystals suspended above our heads.

"You are not," Gaara responded.

"Really," insisted I, my fingers pointlessly tracing whatever happened to be within reach—purse, pockets, stray seams. In horror, I observed the people in the embellished scope, every one of them clad in nothing less than formal-wear, whereas I stood in a pair of Guess jeans. There was no better way to stand out; already I felt eyes fastening on me. "I wish you warned me. I would've worn something more..."

Out of the blue, warmth enveloped my fidgeting hand as Gaara's fingers tenderly pried my own from the abused buttons of my coat, with which I've been fiddling in discomfort 'til that minute. Stilling my hand, he leaned down—given that, being male, his height unquestionably exceeded mine (although not any taller than Sasuke, I noted)—and murmured an inch away from my ear, "Don't worry about them." He didn't need to speak of whom he was referring, for I already knew he was referring to the elderly couples and a group of businessmen now staring at us with disapproving or otherwise curious gazes. "You look fine."

For some reason, his reassurance did me no benefit, though I knew it should have, in the same way his touch should have had me reddening on the spot; should have—if not for the disquiet that remained in my guts. But the strange unrest was not a consequence of my being mistakenly dressed for the occasion. Though my untailored attire drew the attention of more than half the guests, I've gone through worse in the past.

There was, I realized as Gaara lead the way to a particularly private part of the hall, something else twisting and coiling my innards.

A man in a slick black overcoat, with an oval, silvery tray upheld masterfully above his head, crossed our path and, at Gaara, bobbed his chin down and up. At first I dismissed the unusual greeting, at least until another nod of cordiality was aimed at my red-head escort—and another, and another. It was once we settled into a spot beside the casements, as my eyes rested upon the menu's ebony leather, on which was engraved in fine script the restaurant's name, did I realized the gestures of acknowledgement from the staff were not merely arbitrary.

Impressed in gold lettering was the appellation: _Le Restaurant de Sunagakure_—a word that couldn't have meant anything other than Sand, Konoha's equally large neighbouring county, which I also happened to know Gaara's father was the leader of. Once the two were put together, I shot my head up, eyes wide and rotund like saucers. "You own this place?"

"No," Gaara answered with a smirk, and perhaps thought he was being clever by adding, "My father does."

"Hilarious," I derided. "We should've just gone to McDonalds, or something. I would have been fine with a cheeseburger."

"You deserve better." Involuntarily, I was brought back to the last time I'd gone out with someone, his remark evoking a memory of that dinner with Sasuke, on the same night of Karin's murder. Looking about—taking in the lush aura encompassing all of the restaurant's occupants, from appropriately suited guests and staff to furniture and decorations—I couldn't help but put side-by-side the two experiences.

From the costly prices of the place, evident from the overwhelming numerals and dollar signs that accompanied every meal's description, to its grandeurs, I knew Sasuke would never have been able to afford to eat here.

"Pick whatever you like," Gaara said, breaking into my thoughts, as he motioned at the opened menu in my hand. "And try not to look at the right hand column."

Too late—the prices were the first thing my eyes had singled out on. "This has to be costing you," I told him contritely.

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. "If it makes you feel any better, I get a discount." Gaara showed no symptom of backing down, and as I was predestined to lose this argument eventually, I swallowed my stubbornness and selected when an attendant came by for our orders. The whole time I was mindful of Gaara's amusement at my discomfort. I sent him a daggered glare, to which he responded with a teasing smirk.

At the sight of him, the spectacle of the boy who'd taken me out tonight, harmless and sweet, his blood-red hair falling over his eyes and smiling at me as his dark emeralds danced with mine, my uneasiness dissipated. The qualms that have been badgering my nerves from the instant we'd stepped into the restaurant, the inescapable gut-feeling that we were being watched—which didn't make sense. I shouldn't make a huge deal out of the fact, considering most of the customers have had their eyes on us to begin with—were pushed back in my mind and willed to be forgotten.

I returned the smile, my agitation gone along with any reminder of Sasuke and of what was to come later tonight, feeling, for the first time in a ten-fold of weeks, that I was finally getting a taste of simplicity.

For the first time in over a month, it didn't feel like I was self-destructing, or that I was nearing the edge of sanity. For once, I was...

..._Safe_, the word echoed in the caverns of my brain, drowning in the comfort of the word: _safe._

Caught in the moment, sitting here with Gaara, I was safe.

* * *

Several minutes later, a plate of Fettuccini Alfredo was presented before me on the table. Out of the entire set of choices, each title supplemented with a lengthy, elaborate depiction of some sort, the Roman repast was all that seemed even remotely familiar to me. Though the visuals of every other item were mouth-watering, seeming to have come out of a catalogue or a Photoshop-enhanced food magazine, everything else, dishes composed of names I'd never heard of, some even in another language, I wasn't sure of. I didn't want a meal I'd end up abandoning half-eaten, or chucking underneath the table.

Up until then, I'd thought the images were an exaggeration, and perhaps would have continued to think so if not for what currently sat in the center of my salver: parmesan-covered knots of pasta, adorned with soupcons of broccoli, parsley, cream and whatever else, and prawns that seemed to form an upright triangle atop the organized mesh. "It looks like a sculpture." I pointed out, "Is it even edible?"

"As if I'd feed you anything that wasn't."

After then, we talked: about everything and anything there possibly was to chatter about, topics ranging from school to annoying friends and roommates (the former from my perspective, and the latter from his), music to movies and favourites, unfurling along the skyway of normality. Perfect—if I were to close my eyes to the interminable nagging of my guts. Whilst outwardly I had a great time, deep in my subliminal mind the qualms I'd buried earlier fought to surface and make their selves known. I tried to ignore the uncanny sensation seemingly fastened on my back, drilling into my skull and analyzing every inch of me, though it was a feeling I couldn't escape from, regardless of how much I squirmed in my chair.

By the time dessert was served, I couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take not knowing the owner of that gaze; or gazes, I should say, since I had a relatively good idea whose eyes they belonged too. Ever-so-casually, I turned my head sideways to glare at the staring adults—it was time their reprimanding stares came to a stop, since they were seriously ruining my night. As my eyes scanned about the spacious room however, skimming every guest and waiter in sight, I realized, not without inexplicable dread, that none of them were staring at us.

Not a head was turned our way anymore.

Shaking my head, I centered my mind back to the here and now, to what was currently coming to pass. Opposite of me, Gaara had fallen silent, frozen in mid-sentence. I studied Gaara, befuddled at the taut line of his mouth and the frown etched into his forehead. His gaze, wholly engaged, strayed past my head.

"Gaara?" I voiced, but I might as well have been miles away. He made no sign of ever having heard me. He squinted. Subsequently, without so much of a warning, his face blanched with the same paleness as that of the dead.

Following his eyes, I shifted to steal a glance over my shoulder...

But all there was to see was the ghost-like swinging of a barstool and the shattered remains of glass over the floor and counter.

Instantaneously, I felt as though I've found the source of that stare.

* * *

"Who was that?"

"No one."

"Did you know him?"

"No."

He was lying.

With a mumbled curse under his breath, Gaara stood up in haste and demanded, "Come on." Digging into his wallet for cash, he slapped onto the table more than the adequate amount and, before I could ask, I was pulled out of my chair and led to the nearest exit. Outside, the harsh wind whipped at us with biting frostiness; the resonance of tossed trees and tousling leaves were all that echoed in the isolated parking lot. Lampposts were evenly spread across the yard, yet their glow only seemed to make the environs darker. Every ray of light created twice as much shadows in its midst, so even with the teamwork of multiple light bulbs darkness remained conqueror of the night.

His movements hurried and impetuous, Gaara escorted me through the dimness, keeping a gentle but secure hold fastened on the small of my back. Ahead of us, the pick-up became visible, and as he pressed a button of his small, oval remote, the vehicle's powered locks unbolted with a signalling beep. He kept me close to him, as protective as a body guard.

Reaching the vehicle, he opened the passenger door and guided me inside, with a tender hand on my head to shield me from accidentally bumping head-butting the top of the doorframe. Gaara waited until I was fully settled before closing the hinged panel with a harried slam. I would have considered it sweet if only I'd had enough rationality to even think, which I had not owing to the whirling raid of unanswered inquiries in my head. Underneath my ribcage, my heart hammered uncontrollably, its erratic beat like the hooves of galloping horses pounding against the ground. The source of my panic was unknown to me; I supposed some of it had rubbed off from Gaara, and from the way he was presently acting.

Fear, after all, was contagious, and that was all I could sense from him right then: fear—unflappably repressed, but all the same reflected with every inch of his movement.

"What?" I asked as he slumped into the driver's seat, starting the engine simultaneously. In a matter of seconds, we were out of the lot and tearing through traffic with a velocity I was sure was past the speed limit. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," he snapped, and then paused to reconsider his response, the terseness of which would no doubt only trigger more questions from my side of the conversation. "It's nothing you should worry about," he reasoned, with the grimace in his words audible despite of how assuredly he uttered them.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Everything's fine. Just—" I watched his knuckles tighten to white as Gaara gripped the wheel harder than before. Hesitance then contemplation shadowed over his expression; his eyes, a deep shade of jade now seemingly black under the glare of distorted streetlights, flickered with an emotion I was familiar of but couldn't seem to put a finger on. "I'd have to get back soon," he indicated, as if Morino's curfew was the reason backing his behaviour. "It's already a quarter to ten. I thought maybe, instead of hitting up the theatres, we could just go for a drive, you know?"

Replacing our movie plans with a nice, romantic drive under the moonlight was not what was troubling him. His attempt at flippancy, with the intent to steer the subject away from his immediate and eccentric actions, was not enough to have me fooled.

"Gaara," I called, forcing our eyes to meet.

Though the stare could have lasted only a maximum of two seconds, for any longer at a hundred-twenty kilometres per hour and we would have surely been thrown through the windshield by now, felt like an eternity. Restrained and unspoken thoughts flashed in those opals of his—and there it was again, that look in his eyes, though before I was given a chance to put a name to it, the flicker of emotion dispersed into levity.

In a bat of an eyelid, the moment had passed. He turned away and redirected his focus back on the road, leaving me to wonder what it was I had just seen, what it was that overcame him a mere second ago.

The urge to ask was irresistible, but as Gaara had already dropped the subject, I didn't push it—candidly, I wasn't even sure I wanted to know. Maybe it had nothing to do with me. For once, my common sense won over curiosity and, likewise, I let it go. "Sure," I replied genuinely, to answer his question that had been hanging between us unanswered. "I'd like that."

He nodded, visibly relieved. Without another word, Gaara steered around corners and whizzed past intersections, time and again glancing at the side and rear view mirrors. I gazed out the window, focusing on the passing shapes and lights on the other side of the glass, too fleeting to be anything more than blurry streaks, its colours meshed together into one ephemeral rainbow as the silence stretched thickly between us.

A couple of minutes later, a sigh broke from Gaara's lips. "We're good," He murmured with a volume much lower than a whisper, denoting the utterance wasn't meant for my ears. He eased off on the accelerator, and the truck slowed consequently, coasting in an accepted pace.

"So," I piped, racking my head for a conversation-starter in attempt to redeem what was left of the evening. Eyeing his left temple, which flaunted an intricate red symbol in tone with the loose strands of deep burgundy that fell across his forehead, partly covering the peculiar mark, I remarked, "That symbol, what does it mean?"

"Love," said Gaara. I waited for him to expand by means of more details, but he did not.

Strike one.

"Tell me about your family," I tried again, "And not about Kankuro. You've complained about him enough the past hour."

His mouth shaped into a smirk. "I was trying to make you laugh, and you did, so it worked." True. "And there's really nothing else to say. Kankuro's an idiot. And my father... is a self-seeking bastard. No story there." Before I knew it, we were at the edge of Konoha city. In the distance, the main interprovincial highway emerged into view, stretching from one end of the horizon to another, the speeding headlights coming and going from opposite courses. Gaara turned the helm and entered a small, service road.

"What about your mom?" I inquired as we cruised on a narrow lane that weaved through stark, leafless trees and dense bushes. Within minutes, the road gave way to two-car parking lots and parks.

"She died giving birth to me."

His voice was flat, empty of any life and his expression pokerfaced—either he didn't care about her death, or it hurt him too much to show even a crack of what he was currently feeling.

The isolated service road and its equally isolated woodland eventually morphed into developments of identical, three story houses and evenly lined trees.

"I'm sorry." Suddenly, we were in the suburbs.

"What for?" he replied, deadpanned. "You didn't kill her."

One needed not to be supersonic to discern the abhorrence in the undercurrents of his every word, the spiteful sentiment targeted at none other than himself. "Neither did you."

"Next topic," he stated evasively, manoeuvring the vehicle out of the suburban division and into flatter land.

Strike Number Two, I thought.

With every block, trees slowly thinned and greeneries lessened until there was no more plant-life to be seen. Replacing it, landings level and wide expanded around us—lit lanes for aircraft launchings and landings glimmered in the night, and east of the freeway: a large, glassed building, vastly packed with signboards of different routes and places within and out of the country.

"Your sister, then?" I said as Gaara passed the exit that lead to the airport and took another road less travelled. "Temari."

"She got me this car."

"Were you close?

"Yes," he unfalteringly replied. "When we were kids, not so much. But it's better now, not so strained."

"She's older, right?"

He nodded. "The eldest, and the suck-up. Our father was proud of her; Kankuro and me... not so much. Temari knew better. She's in college now..." Gaara's voice faded.

Outside, a more industrialized area came into view. Factories stood erect from the ground, spurting out smoke in amounts that was not environment-friendly. Cautiously, as I didn't want to sound meddlesome, I replied, "Have you... tried looking for her?"

Gaara's head shook. "There's no need for that," he uttered, confounding me. Hadn't he said, only a couple of minutes ago, that he and his sister were close? Now, I wasn't an expert on missing people, but his previous claim did not exactly make sense. It was natural to fret over her wellbeing (after all, worry was inevitable when a loved-one has ever-so-unexpectedly gone off the radar) but was he not at all concerned over where she might be?

"Aren't you worried?" I asked him, "About where she might have gone?"

I waited for an answer, although apart from the hardening of his orbs on the pavement ahead, I received nothing. "Do you know where she is?"

Gaara shook his head, wayward strands of red falling over his eyes. "You wouldn't understand; it's complicated. I'm handling it."

What did _that _mean?

"She's fine." I stared at him. "She..." His eyes, two gleaming daggers, zeroed in at the rear of an innocent automobile driving in front of us.

"She's staying at a friend's house. Except she doesn't want our father, or anyone else, to know. She—told me to keep it a secret for a while."

Before I could voice anything else, before I could even part my mouth open to speak, he uttered, "It's none of your business, Sakura."

I bit my lip, "Family stuff, right?"

His brows knitted together. "Yeah, something like that."

"Okay," I murmured, propping an elbow against the window and gazed out of it. Strike three, an inner voice gibed; _you sure know how to ruin a night._

An instant later, a sigh sounded beside me as Gaara blew out a breath. Following that, my left hand, folded innocuously on my lap, was enwrapped with a palm larger than my own, and seeing as there were only two of us in the car, the touch couldn't have been anyone else's but Gaara. As his fingers entwined with mine, I blinked, taken back at the sudden exhibit of affection.

"Don't be mad," he uttered.

"I'm not." If anything, it was he who had the right to be angry. "Really. I shouldn't have pried."

He nodded. Then, picking up my hand, he grazed his lips softly across my knuckles, all the while maintaining his concentration on the road. "It's getting late," he said, his voice tired. "I should take you home."

I glanced at clock, the screen display flashing the bright red digits: 10:58PM. Our drive, converted into an all-round tour of the entire metropolis of Konohagakure within the span of an hour, had rendered me to lose track not only of place but of time. Suddenly, the thought of Sasuke struck me—Sasuke, whom I was supposed to meet exactly fifty-eight, now fifty-nine and counting, minutes ago.

I'd entirely forgotten.

"Actually, I've got something to do downtown. Since we're in the area, can you drop me off at the station instead? It's at Forty-Fourth Avenue."

Nodding, Gaara steered the vehicle accordingly and headed for the said address. He rounded corners and passed cars and busses with one hand on the wheel, and the other remained holding mine. We sat, contently and without a sound, for the next little while. Shortly, I caught a view of the distinctive insignia that graced every branch of the police department throughout Konoha, and though we were still a good block away, it wasn't very hard to make out the rest of the station's stout edifice. The taupe building, unlike its neighbouring high-rises, stood out with its wide breadth and a height worth of only two or three stories. Slowing down, Gaara eased the car into open space in front of the flight of steps that lead up to station's entrance. With a hand already fasted on the buckle of my seat, I waited until the pick-up came onto a full stop before uncoupling the belt.

"This is my stop," I announced as I turned to glance at him for the last time, and in the same instant, emeralds and myrtle clashed. The look he had earlier was back, misting over his eyes, green as the ocean's shallow shores. Unlike mine, it was not delight or anything pleasant that graced his expression; rather, in its place, I saw a grimmer sentiment, one I was acquainted with all too well. It was...

I frowned.

...Guilt?

"Hey," I nudged his hand, wrenching his state of mind from whatever stupor he had fallen in. He blinked. "I'll see you around, okay?"

What, I wondered, could Gaara have to be ashamed of? What could he possibly have, or have done, to regret?

Tersely, he nodded. "Well," I said, reaching out to grip the handle of the passenger door, "Goodnight."

* * *

_**Gaara**_

"Wait."

Jesus, what the hell was he doing?

He knew better.

He knew he shouldn't have stopped her from getting out of the vehicle; he knew better than to lay a hand on her wrist and pull her back to him—yet that was what he did. Instincts, it seemed, proved stronger than logic of any kind, whether driven by principle (which he'd given up the instant he picked up that ill-fated phone call a few weeks ago) or, and this his situation applied to, culpability.

The fact that she did absolutely nothing to resist only made matters worse, complying like a child without so much as the weakest opposition.

Sakura would hate him even more when the time came, he would fall deeper into the predicament he was already stuck in; yet, in spite of the worst outcomes that ran endlessly through his mind, he found that he couldn't care less about the consequences. His actions, it seemed, was already beyond his control.

His voice had disobeyed him the moment he stopped her from getting out of the car. His body went against his better judgement as he moved toward her—slowly, so as to not scare her, bit by bit diminishing the gap that was between them until his face hovered only an inch away from hers. And his arm, defying all protests screamed at him by the logical part of his brain, wrapped around Sakura's waist, bringing their proximities closer than before.

"Gaara?" she breathed, the cherry-scented mouthful of air mellifluously bouncing off him.

He shut his eyes, letting his forehead rest on hers. Light and dark strands of red fused as one as their locks touched and merged.

He can't, he told himself.

He couldn't do this, couldn't carry out whatever he was planning in his head. It would be horrible, so horrible, and how could he live with himself after it?

She would hate him.

But it only took so little to shatter his resolve.

"Sakura," Hell, he wished she would stop chewing her lip, now red from the habit. Though his mind was elsewhere and his vision was composed of only the back of his eyelids, Gaara could sense almost everything around him: the idle hum of the engine, her utter stillness in his arms, the feel of her controlled breathing against his face, the sudden rise in temperature as the warmth from their bodies heated the rest of the car...

Lifting the lids of his eyes, he stared, intently, into her viridian pools—misty now, drugged by him as he was by her.

And then he proceeded with what he'd been wanting to do since he'd first set eyes on her earlier that evening.

Against his raging conscience, Gaara leaned in, ultimately bringing their lips to touch.

_It was wrong, so wrong, to betray her like this._

Christ—he was mistaken. It wasn't cherries, and unlike what her hair colour implied, it wasn't strawberries either; the taste of her was sweet and unpretentious, a blend of sugar and vanilla and caramel, rare and delicate. Wanting more, he tightened his hold on her and grazed his tongue on her lower lip. She gasped, parting her mouth in surprise, and he seized the opportunity.

_To lie to her like this._

Whether it was seconds, minutes, or even an hour, he didn't know—time never crossed his mind, and neither did the penalty of his actions. He kept her close, drowning in her embrace as he drew her body close to his, both lost in each other's taste and touch. He pressed her small frame against him, running his hands along the length of her, until...

The passenger door swung—_slammed_—open.

"_Sakura_..."

A smooth, even voice.

"_Get the fuck out of the car."_

* * *

_Memo: ...I'm not even gonna say anything. *evilgrin* I'll leave you guys to comment on that ending. x)_

_So I got several french reviews last chap, which was cool, except I was scrambling all over the place for a dictionary and my old French binder. XD Disclaimer: Je suis une FOB et un noob en Francais!_

_**Read, Review and Thank You!  
**__Sorry for the wait. Fanfiction's given me an Error Page the past 3 weeks. Dunno why. Even now, as I'm typing this, there's something wrong with their alerts, & updates don't show up on some computers. I'm gonna try to fix it, so if some of you get double-updates, it's just technology hating me again. Please ignore. lol_

_Anyway, I've been a busy too: working, volunteering (got accepted at the library!), watching anime (it's Spring Break. That's my excuse) and, um, FREAKING OUT ABOUT MY UNIVERSITY ACCEPTANCE AND ENTRANCE SCHOLARSHIP? ! ? ! Oh-em-geee! lol _

_Utterly hyper and grateful for the 100 plus reviews the last chapter got,  
__Keelah_


	47. Green Eyed Monsters

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_He pulled his arm back —his right arm, the one still wrapped in bindings—and surged it forward, his clenched fist hitting the leather with a thump._

"_You are _not_ my boyfriend."_

"_Yeah," he hit the bag harder. "I noticed."_

* * *

_**Chapter FORTY-SIX  
**__**Green - Eyed Monsters**_

"_Now_, Sakura," he declared, unreservedly snubbing the red-head, and then contradicting the calmness in his voice as he added, "Before I _break_ something."

"Sasuke—"

"Uchiha," Gaara growled, head shooting up to glare at the person who dared to interrupt. "What the hell do you think you're _doing_?"

"What the hell do you think _you're_ doing?" the raven-haired boy snapped, his fuse rapidly running short.

"Just fuck off, alright?"

That was the last straw; Sasuke's patience, already rapidly diminishing in the first place, ultimately ran out.

"Oh, there won't be any fucking," he planted a firm grasp just above my elbow and violently tried to lug me out of the vehicle. "Not if I've got anything to say about it."

I gawked, cheeks evidently aflame, but as I opened my mouth to retort, the small beginning of what should have been my attempt to protest was cut short as Sasuke barked once again.

"_You—o_ut of the car_," _he enjoined at me.

I wasn't given the chance to bid Gaara goodbye, or even glance at him for a last time; nor was there enough time to oppose or to stomp a foot in protest. In one brief, fluid motion, Sasuke hauled me behind him and shut the door with a bang, thoughtlessly sending away my date in a snap of a finger.

As I stepped out onto the pavement, a shudder ran through my body. I shook, not from the cold but from the strange, chilling sensation that suddenly gripped me now that I was outside, out in the open.

Suddenly, I felt exposed, bare, watched.

I shrugged, dismissing the paranoia. The Rogue was human, not a god, and he was not omnipresent. Sometimes though, I swear I felt watched just about everywhere I went, at all hours of the day. As if he was all-pervading; as if he had dozens of menacing eyes assigned to me.

Much more than a single pair.

By the time the black pick-up had vanished into dense traffic, a scowl was plastered readily on my face. Fully equipped with narrowed eyes and arms crossed mulishly over my chest, I whirled around. "What," I spat, "was that for?"

His expression remained composed but indignant nonetheless, judging from the rigidity of his shoulders and the soundless, disregarding manner in which he whirled about face and made for the building. With a pout on my lips, childish as that may seem, I followed him up the stairway.

"You know," I started, sick of the silence treatment and knowing for a fact that I didn't deserve it. I was the one who was supposed to be mad here. "That was completely rude and uncalled for. And you're being completely unreasonable. What's gotten into you?"

The station was larger than it appeared a kilometre away. A loading zone arced around the front; a few cruisers were spread about, the flashing red-and-blue beams giving away their identities. Excluding the old, grey minivan and a maroon Hummer parked a few meters down the road, no civilian automobiles were present.

Four pillars were evenly arranged to support the portico, above of which an enormous arc was constructed. Down the center of the semicircle was a floor-to-ceiling sheet of glass that peeked into the happenings of the station's second floor and flanking the broad casement were round windowpanes. At the highest peak of the building was the blue, four-pointed star of the police department's official emblem, a red and white fan in the middle of it. Directly below the crest, the words _Konoha Military Police Force _were embedded.

As we walked through the doors of the entrance, I quickly noted the swarm of people, some lined up to speak to the officer behind the counter, others in sitting along the wall in a row of seemingly uncomfortable couches. I wondered vaguely what reason they all had for being here—to make reports, though I learned from my father that half of given statements were only of missing teenagers (who, most often than not, were probably going through a defiant phase and were crashing at a friend's house) and lost possessions (usually just misplaced, and therefore not worthy enough of a matter to be taken to the police).

And then, in the back of my mind, I thought of how none of their petty accounts could compare to what I had to say, what I had to testify—yet I was silent still. A part of me envied them, their freedom and courage to speak, to shout out. The Rogue had muffled my voice long before he told me to keep quiet.

"Okay, you're pissed that I'm late," I said to the stiff back of the Uchiha, returning to our very much one-sided argument. "I'm sorry, but you don't have to be such a jerk about it."

No response.

Sasuke and I, with me struggling to keep up with his hurried, irate pace, marched through the lobby, past the line-ups and behind the counter: an area I was sure was for authorized personnel only. I expected a cop to appear in our path and stop us from going any further, but without intermission, Sasuke rounded around a back corner, away from the front desk's commotion. We walked along a hallway of closed doors—custody suites, holding areas, evidence rooms—towards the case of stairs at the end of it. I tailed after Sasuke as he trod up each step.

"I _told_ you I was going out, didn't I? And I _told_ you I didn't know what time I'd be back."

At the landing, a panorama of divided offices and stiffly dressed six-footers met my eyes. The air was filled with blended, simultaneous chatters and the constant tapping of fingers on keyboards. In the background, telephones trilled.

"_You_," he spoke over the noise, "didn't tell me it was on a date with Gaara."

The locker rooms came into view; without a sign of hesitation, Sasuke pushed past the blue hinged-panel.

"And _you_," he emphasized as I found myself suddenly standing in a small gym complete with gears and equipment. "...didn't tell me you'd be fogging up the windows of his Ford, letting him grope you all over the place."

My jaw dropped. "He—" I stuttered, "We were _not_—he wasn't...!"

"He was," Sasuke stated plainly, a deadpan side-glance at my direction. Shrugging out of his jacket, he ditched the entity on the matted floor and approached the heavy bag in one corner of the scope, a sturdy cylinder suspended from the ceiling made to withstand any physical beating. Without warning, Sasuke pulled his arm back —his right arm, the one still wrapped in bindings—and surged it forward, his clenched fist hitting the leather with a thump.

"What are you doing?" I asked him as an annoying spark of worry ignited within me. "Your arm's just healing; you shouldn't be—you're not fully recovered yet."

"Just give me a minute," he muttered, ignoring the pain that I was sure was ripping through his right arm.

"To _what_?" I asked, incredulous.

"Blow off steam," was his reply, eyes and fists focused on the bag of grains, rags and sand.

"You'll hurt yourself."

I wanted to scold his unwarranted antagonism, wanted to tell him that I didn't have time for this, that we should get going already. This was _ridiculous_, I thought, but I was too mad and confused at his unreasoned actions, so silent I remained.

"Tell me, Sakura," he went on affably enough, though beneath the feigned conversational tone, his words were caustic, deliberately mordant, unwilling to drop the subject. "Was it open-mouthed?"

I stared at him. "You can't be _serious_."

"Well, _was_ it?" he bit out. "Was his tongue down your throat?"

"I am _not_ answering that."

"Jesus, that's a yes."

Suddenly, I was annoyed. "You are _not _my boyfriend."

"Yeah," he hit the bag harder. "I noticed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're the smart one," Sasuke rejoined, "You figure it out."

"This is so immature of you." It was none of his business; he had no right to act like this. "Is it so wrong for me to go out once in a while? To leave all this blood and death behind?"

"You don't _know_ him," he continued, as though I'd never spoken. "You don't know what his intentions are."

"He doesn't have _intentions_."

Sasuke looked up to meet my eyes and I instantly caught the acidic, cynical dagger he sent my way. "And I suppose that hand he had up your shirt had absolutely no intention, too?"

My jaw fell limp. "I cannot believe you just—" I glared at him, and hard. "I don't need this. I'm leaving."

"You're going alone? To that back lane?"

"I don't need you."

His head shook, his features contorted in what seemed to be disgust and submission. "No. No, fine, let's go." With eyes focused solely onto his target, his arm reeled forward, his fingers curled, and sent the much-abused punching bag one last blow. Then, seizing his vagrant sweater that lay sloppily on the ground, Sasuke turned about face and brushed past me without another word. The door clicked open and clunked close.

In the background, the resonance of the impact, a collision of bare, gloveless knuckles and hard, inflexible stuffed leather, reverberated in the room, against the dropped ceiling and walls of metal lockers—

It was the echo of Sasuke's frustration ringing with unspoken reason.

* * *

"How do we know we'll even find anything?" I asked for about the umpteenth time over the course of only several minutes. I'd lost count after the numbers had reached ten and over, and by then the tally was already well into the double digits. "How do we know the Rogue will be there? He probably won't be. He's not careless; he wouldn't just walk around in the open near the place where he often killed. Just because I saw him that day so many weeks ago doesn't make that god-forsaken alley his headquarters of some kind. And, okay, he brought to that alley some of the people he murdered and took pictures of their corpses. Sick, but it doesn't mean anything."

The lips of the person to whom I was speaking remained shut; his visage inexpressive and gaze concentrated in front of him, looking at nothing in particular but the dirt on the pavement and the path beneath his well-worn sneakers. "And how are we planning to go about with this?" I ranted, "How would we look for clues? How would we know what to look for? How would we know which one could lead us to the Rogue? How—"

"Sakura." Finally: an answer. "How do I get you to _shut up_?"

I opened my mouth to retort, but before any utterance was pronounced Sasuke halted in his tracks, his feet embedding into the cement. This abruptness instigated a holdup of human traffic behind him and a few calls of "Hey!", "Move it!" or something of the sort from the horde. I fixed upon him an angry stare—though given that he was too preoccupied with something else ahead of him and had barely, if at all, noticed me, the reprisal was futile. About to ask what was with the sudden delay, I was interrupted when he asked, "Is that it?"

Turning, I followed his gaze across the street and a few stores down where an opening of a passage jutted out from between two walls, one of high, red brick and the other of vandalized concrete. An entire labyrinth made up of interweaving alleyways spread all through town, but of the hundred there was one I could identify unmistakably. My heart leaped at the familiar sight. "Yes."

I caught the contortion of his face before he had the chance to cover it up. "What's wrong?"

"Karin."

The name stopped my heartbeat. "What?"

He nodded his head towards a brightly-lit fast food restaurant several meters from the alley of our focus. "That's where she worked. The picture was shot in the alley. He brought her all the way there just to kill her and then dragged her body back... that fucking _bastard_."

With a lump forming in my throat, I struggled to utter, "Sasuke..."

A shadow caught my attention, lingering at the rim of my sight. Situated by the passageway was a man's figure, or of what seemed like a man, skittering just close enough to be cloaked by its enveloping shadows. I frowned, squinting for a better picture. "Who's that?" Through the distance and gloom, the image was no clearer than an obscured silhouette of a man and a blurred icon of his face. "I can't see him."

Recomposing himself, Sasuke turned, his eyes thoroughly skimming the blackness of the alley before zeroing in on one spot in particular.

"Let's go."

The two words were all the warning I received before Sasuke vanished, gone from my side within the next second and already athwart of the two-lane boulevard by the time my mind caught on to what was happening.

Flustered, I forced my limbs into a sprint. "Sasuke!" I hissed after him, though amidst the crowd's blathering my voice was as loud as silence. "Don't get too close—"

Too late. After a few more strides, I found ourselves standing measly meters away from the darkened aperture, a black-hole that swallowed up anything in its path and from which even light cannot escape. Our pace slowed down considerably as we drew nearer, more cautious now of the shadowy passage. Both flanking walls were dirtied and written on; garbage decorated the damp ground, the uneven granite speckled with used needles and contraceptives left behind. A lone lamppost stood at the corner of the entrance, illuminating its immediate surroundings yet creating more shadows within the cave-like alley.

Coming to a full stop, Sasuke sidestepped out of view and positioned himself behind a large, deciduous tree, its barren boughs and large truck concealing him. Less smoothly, I stumbled after the Uchiha in three-inch heels. Passersby stared at us with an odd twinkle in their eyes, the same kind of look generally reserved for morons. Geez, I thought, haven't they ever seen a stake out before?

Unsighted, our presence remained oblivious to the man though we were merely yards away. From the broader viewpoint provided by our new location, a ray of light from the streetlamp snared us a glimpse of his anxious face. At his side, his fingers gripped hard the strained handle of a white, bulging plastic bag.

"Do you recognize him?" Sasuke asked, our proximity allowing me to feel the graze of his breath on my face. I gulped, pushing back these needless thoughts, and concentrated on our target. To no avail, I struggled to match the tense, but otherwise decent features of the stranger with some familiarity in my mind. The man was sporting a suit, the kind my father wore in meetings and conferences, but other than that his face was just another in the crowd.

"No." I sighed in defeat, triggering an explicit scowl in my ear from the lips of the Uchiha. I glowered at him in return. "What do you want me to do? Lie and say yes?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't be so useless."

Suddenly, at the edges of my peripheral vision, movement flickered: a barely visible trace deep in the darkest caverns of the sparsely-illumined passageway, out of which a figure was presently emerging. I whirled my head around, slits of emerald narrowed at the profile surfacing above the black blanket. Out of the blackness, the round shape of a head materialized, followed by a body-like blur, though unlike the anxious businesses man, this hooded form never stepped into the lamppost's shine.

Against the glow, his contours were illumined however nothing else; from this angle, I couldn't make out any facial attributes, hair colour, not even what garments he was clad in—only that he wore something that resembled slacks.

Then, amidst the mesh of shadows, blurred shapes and dim luminosity, the figure shifted. A ray of light, though faint, struck a polished surface—metal, perhaps, or glass, or both—and out of the blackness, a momentary, blinding round glint was begotten.

A frown etched its way onto Sasuke's countenance, contorting his brows, temples, lips. "What?" I asked, "Do you know him? Seen him before?"

My eyes followed his hand as it moved unconsciously to his face and ran a finger over the yellowing bruise of his left cheekbone, which was now steadily healing, the golden tinge blending into the colour of flesh. Then, he shook his head, shrugging. "No," replied Sasuke, "Have you?"

Facing the alley again, I tried to put a finger on the ambiguous figure that revived a sense of déjà-vu, yet had no distinct place in my memories. "I don't know." I answered, deflated.

Acerbically, Sasuke huffed.

Wonder and curiosity I previously felt toward the enigmatic man evaporated, a burst of irritation taking its place. Now thoroughly pissed off, I shot the Uchiha a pointed glare worthy of a blade. "Why are you so mad? Honestly, Sasuke, whatever it is, let it go—" His gazed remained fastened before him—an act with a purpose to grate on my nerves, I'm sure.

"Are you even _listening_ to me?"

"No." Which was obviously kind of a lie.

I scuffed. "If this is still about earlier—"

"This isn't about you being late," Sasuke cut off. He turned to me, our faces separated only by the breadth of my hair. The distance between us was thin, and the warm mingling of our breaths visibly rose, dispersing into the arctic air. Close, but never actually touching—he hasn't laid a finger on me since he'd punched out of work, and from that moment on Sasuke had made a point of keeping his distance. "And I'm not mad." His tone, tart and biting, suggested otherwise.

It was my turn to produce an acidic scoff. "Jealous, maybe?"

Backpedalling, he spat: "Fuck, no!" His exclamation was so loud that it was heard above the crowd's chattering, drawing the attention of those in our vicinity. "We're dropping this, right now."

"Fine." I glimpsed again at the dark entryway to make sure our presence hadn't been noticed, but neither of their attention was aimed at us. Remaining a silhouette, the shadow of the unseen man slipped around the alley's bend and soundlessly out into the sidewalk. A few meters askew, the businessman jumped at the sudden company, the disquiet in his half-lit face seemingly intensifying. His head whipped in all direction and, with a hasty jerk in his manner, turned to cross the street, heading southward, away from the shadowy blur of the man who had spooked him only a seconds ago. The back of this said sphinx-like individual intermingled with the moving crowd that moved north into the suburbs, dissolving quickly amid the pedestrian bodies.

"You know what?" I shot at Sasuke, watching as our two targets hurried off in different courses. "Maybe we should split up."

"You know what?" he mimicked, already brushing past me to cross the vehicle-filled avenue.

"_Great_ idea."

* * *

With Sasuke set to pursue after the shifty man in a suit, the only option left for me was tail the other: the Shadow, I dubbed him. He manoeuvred through the horde like a legless reptile through tall grass, and it took quite an ample amount of effort and concentration to keep up with him, to keep him in sight. Time and again he would slip from my vision, and I'd panic for several instances, only to spot him again a few yards farther away. Following him became easier as we rounded a corner, leaving the hectic main street and into a less populated avenue, where the incessant honking of heavy traffic quieted down and crowds of shoppers, club-hoppers and late-working employees dispersed.

Out of the blue (or the darkness, I should say) two narrow shafts of light unfolded in my path from some distance behind me as a vehicle rolled into the same lane. Paying no heed to the oncoming automobile, I concentrated on the murky remnants of the man's vanishing presence, his figure I could scarcely see because of the distance that had elongated between us. Determinedly, I broke in a run, or something similar to, as I could only go so fast in heeled footwear. My attempts to gentle each footfall were next to ineffective, though thankfully an unremitting whine helped disguise the tapping sounds of sandals on cement.

It was as I jogged to close the space between myself and the man, still mentally grateful for the humming noise that muted my own, that I suddenly stopped to ponder about the source of the drone.

An engine, I realized; that of a car.

Only then did I become aware of the fact that the vehicle I'd sensed a few minutes earlier had never exactly driven past; and it wasn't as if my speed matched that of an automobile's. I wondered, then, what became of it. Had the driver changed its mind and manoeuvred around? Had it parked somewhere? Turned into a smaller street? These explanations seemed logical, reasonable; yet something in my gut told me it was not so, that something was off. Up ahead, I noticed that a pair of glowing beams still lit my path.

Suddenly mindful of my surroundings, I slowed down as an uneasy feeling began to knot the contents of my stomach. Cautiously, guardedly, I turned to peer over my shoulder.

A glare of headlights pierced through my pupils, its blinding intensity rendering all rods and cones sightless as though a white screen had swathed over my organs of vision for one, bright moment. In the next second, it was gone.

I blinked, adjusting my eyes to the significantly dimmer shade of night. Behind the lids played relics of the sudden radiance, shifting shapes of various colours, a picturesque result of recovering light-sensitive cells. I looked askance through the dark, spotting two red blotches faintly visible in the far expanse. My eyes followed the dark-red mass as it motored down the road, the large vehicle turning into a main street, disappearing into the dense traffic. Its claret hue, though dimmed by the night and expanse, burned into my retinas and onto my memory.

A strident trilling then penetrated the howling silence of midnight. I rotated, transferring my awareness back on my target, only to find him halted in the middle of the secluded sidewalk, consequently bringing my feet to an abrupt stop. I leaped out of sight, seeking concealment behind a bus stop that was conveniently no more than several steps to my right.

Halfway down the street, the man had his hand against the side of his face, a cellular phone undoubtedly squished between his palm and ear. Too far away to eavesdrop on the conversation, and too much of a coward to risk tip-toeing closer, I settled into observing the stranger from afar. His posture was slack, indifferent, with nothing given away. His head showed the slightest movement, a brusque nod, and in one fluid motion the man flipped the phone shut and shoved it back in a pocket.

I readied myself, preparing to step out of my hiding place and trail after him again. Instead of carrying on down the road however, he did something else, an act beyond my expectancy.

Without warning, the vague figure turned around, its shadowy head looking out onto the stretch of the sidewalk and the adjacent street. For a while, it seemed that was all he was doing, scrutinizing the mug of each stranger that passed him, studying his environs and searching every inch of the paved avenue. His gaze moved over the simple landscape, the painted white and yellow lines on the asphalt, the neighbouring stores, all of which were closed at this ungodly hour, the trees and the branches of which swayed and cracked accordingly to the brutal currents of air, and then, ultimately, upon the monotonous, straight-to-DVD movie poster incorporated into the bus stop's advertising slot.

I ducked into the shadows, certain that I was unseen, but nevertheless an uneasy sensation clasped my spine and clawed its way up my backbone. I held my breath and counted to ten, forcing my heart beat to decelerate. Once calm, or calm enough, I pressed my back against the wall of the shelter and, in a vigilant manner, stole a peek around the edge.

The man hadn't moved an inch.

In the dark of the night, amidst the chilly air of December, the whooshes of the wind and the fog brought along by nearby rivers that interlaced the lands of Fire, I saw him smirk, the spine-chilling leer aimed at none other than my direction.

Smugly, he lifted a hand to the bridge of his noise and pushed up the frames, the lens and brim of which caught the moonlight, emanating, once again, that characteristic, ominous glint.

* * *

_**Unknown**_

He couldn't _believe_ he'd left _this _guy in charge of supervision.

Could the moron be any more moronic? He wondered. The girl had been nothing but obvious, miles from stealth with her bold trailing of her target, yet her presence had gone unnoticed by his idiotic associate for several blocks and minutes.

"You've got a tail, you idiot," he chastised when he could tolerate no further, when he felt he'd wasted too much time watching over the girl when, really, he had other equally imperative matters to attend to. "The girl's following you."

"Just her?"

"She and Uchiha split up a few minutes ago." He informed, irritated that idiot even needed to be told of this. It was his task to watch over her tonight, yet the medic had been careless enough to let the otherwise occur. Such mistake he shouldn't let pass, he knew, but he needed the service this lifeless loser offered. "He went to tail somebody else."

"That's impossible," spoke an apathetic voice from the other line, "I'm working alone tonight."

He shook his head, well aware that the gesture was undetected. "He's not ours." He verbalized, "Uchiha's got the wrong lead."

"Good."

He rolled his eyes at the lowly accomplice's pathetic attempt to stand on level ground with him. "Just lose the girl." Always intent on keeping conversations short, he ended the call.

Now to deal with the other insect...

Jamming a foot on the gas pedal, the engine beneath him thundered loudly, zipping past other cars in the highway. He'd lost a couple of minutes having lost track of time while surveying the girl, but all the same he knew just where to go, which route to take. The red-head would have gone straight home, taking the interregional Alpine Freeway for a faster travel. It was here that he ripped through traffic, swerving around coupés and sluggish minivans, intent on catching up with his quarry's lover.

Within minutes, the boy's pick-up truck emerged into view. He smirked as he pulled up behind it, precariously tailgating the glossy black rear as both steered in narrow lanes around the winding route of the freeway, knitted through and round Konoha's mountains. A sheer ravine opened out like a hungry mouth to their left, with only a flimsy strip of metal and a few wooden posts to keep vehicles from the plunge.

Smirking, he reached down and opened the compartment of the passenger seat, where he kept his mask. With practice, he slipped on the animalistic masquerade while maintaining a steady hand on the wheel. Once finished, he reached again to the seat beside him, seizing the cellular phone.

Numbers appeared on the screen as he dialled, and he listened in wait to the soft ringing from the speakers. Through the windshield, he saw the red-head shift to take the call.

A crackle. Then: "Hello?"

"Pull over."

At the sound of his voice, strategically muffled by the layers of paint and plaster of his mask, Gaara's head visibly snapped up. His eyes glared into the rear-view mirror where he could have easily sighted the infamous feline face of his frontage.

The familiar fear that glimmered in his dark viridian orbs brought him satisfaction. Amiably, he raised a hand to his temple and saluted in mock greeting.

"I'd like to speak with you," he stated conversationally. "Stop the car."

A pause of hesitation. "...No."

He had no patience for fruitless defiance. He pressed a foot down, the slight pressure upon the gas pedal causing the motor to surge forward. The collision of bumpers clinked and clanked deafeningly, jolting the entire automobile in front of him.

"Christ," swore the red-head from the opposite end of the line, "What are you _doing_?"

"Either you pull over," he stated the terms, calmly. "Or I _push_ you over."

He stomped on the pedal harder, sending the pick-up truck against the delicate railings, ever closer to the ravenous abyss. Gaara cursed, hastily and jerkily parking the car on the limited shoulder lane that edged dangerously close to the rock face's edge. The red-head's door slammed open, and he followed suit, though more stoically.

"What do you want?" Gaara demanded, his volume and tone seemingly courageous yet, judging from the distance which he chose to keep, daring not to take another step closer to him, he knew the lowly boy was afraid.

"I wanted to warn you," he spoke clearly over the noise of vehicles streaming past them. "About your little exploits tonight involving what is so obviously _mine._"

Gaara shook his head and yelled. "You're fucking _sick_, you know that?"

"Does it make you feel guilty? Lying to her?" The boy winced and, seeing this, a smile formed upon his hidden lips. He went on, merciless, "You betray the girl who trusts you for your own sake. And she has no idea, does she? How you scrutinize her like a lab rat when she's not looking? How you capture her every—?"

"I can't do this." Gaara ran a hand through his hair, frustrated and demeaned. "Goddamnit, I'm done. I'm not doing this. I'm—"

"And what about..._her_?" He smiled fully, knowing by the sudden rigidity in the boy's shoulders that he had struck a nerve. "You'd sacrifice _her_? Your own blood?"

"Don't you _dare_—!"

"I'll do my end of the bargain," he stated unwaveringly, "As long as you continue to do yours."

Gaara shook his head, disgusted, though he knew the repugnance was aimed at himself, at his feebleness. The boy was drowning in self-hatred and self-pity right before his very eyes.

"But for how much longer?" the boy demanded.

"Until our game, mine and Sakura's, is over."

"And when will _that_ be?"

"Well, that's a foolish question," he replied as-a-matter-of-factly. "It ends when the opposing player is _eliminated_, of course."

* * *

_Memo: So I just wanted Tangled for the first time...and I applaud how Disney can make moving films that make you miss childhood. lol Oh, and I __finally__watched Howl's Moving Castle, which only added to my nostalgia from watching all these fairytale movies. __Never realized how hot Christian Bale's voice could be. X) I highly recommend watching __**Howl's Moving Castle**__, just as so many other fans have recommended it to me._

_Anyway, thank you for all your reviews and support. The chapters are counting down – this won't last much longer. =) I appreciate those who actually take the time to leave a comment. It's because of you guys that I update. It's because of you that this story is uploaded._

_Now, off to my last month of high school...  
__Keelah_

_Reason for the delay ?  
__I just had my Grad (aka "Prom") and went home at 8am. Partied for 18 hours straight... And it was the most amazing, perfect, fun and romantic night of my life. It was like those movie moments. I'm still daydreaming. Lol So what was your guys' Grad like?_


	48. Wintry

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_His lips were turned, ever so subtly, into a smirk._

_As though he'd been expecting me._

* * *

_**Chapter FORTY-SEVEN  
**__**Wintry**_

He ambled across the partly isolated lane, with only the glimmer of sputtering streetlamps and diffused moonlight to illuminate his path. He stepped onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road and consequently began to head en route for one of the mediocre, two-story houses that inhabited the entire east suburban subdivision of lower Konoha.

He stepped onto a granite driveway, nonchalantly sauntering through the small front yard until he reached the porch. His feet carried him step by step, up the plain, unfurnished porch, as motion-sensitive lights flickered on concurrently, flooding the low veranda and part of the lawn with a bright yellow glow. Up until that moment I had never seen the man in anything brighter than lunar, silvery-blue radiance, and to my eyes he had been nothing more than a haze shaped ambiguously like a man. For the first time, I was able to see him clearly, though still from a considerable distance.

His pastel mop of hair shone brightly, though whether it was white, blonde or even black under the meagre illusion of light, I could not tell. A white band of cloth wrapped around his waist like a belt, and draped over one arm, a coat of the same pure colour. A lab gown, it seemed, like ones worn by doctors. A crimson insignia was adorned on the left breast of the uniform, though from where I hid the icon was nothing more than incoherent lines enclosed by an exterior circle.

In the shadows of dense shrubberies, I stuck a hand inside my purse and felt for a small, rectangular device, seizing the mobile phone once its smooth surface grazed my fingers. With a subtle slide of the screen, the inanimate display came to life and, with a mere click of a shortcut-button at its side, I was immediately directed to my chosen application. Through the lens I saw the same picture of the man, though unlike the human eyes this camera had the ability to magnify. I captured the image of the man's coat only an instant before he turned away.

A tail of his tresses followed suit in the back of his head as he circled around the screen door, then the front door, before ultimately disappearing into the darkness of his abode. A few seconds later, every window on the ground level burst with light, its rays reduced to a degree because of the curtains that swathed every glass casement. I could see his silhouette, though just barely, making its way about the house, a fleeting shadow moving from one windowpane to the next.

On the other side of the road, amongst the bushy foliage directly opposite of the house, I sat in stillness and silence, waiting for him to pull another strange move. But ever since the sneer that he had sent my way, the man had carried about with his business as any other being. He had spun around and resumed his walk as though nothing had happened and, to be honest, I was beginning to think nothing did, that perhaps I'd imagined the entire thing. There was nothing suspicious in the way he walked, the manner in which he moved, the house he lived in or the clothes he wore; all of these failed to trigger silent alarms of abnormality in my brain. By the time I was crouched among dirt and mud, innumerable crawling insects and unidentified plant life, I was fed up with the fruitlessness of my pursuit.

Scrolling through my Photo Gallery, I selected the latest image taken and enlarged the frame, zooming in to one pictogram in particular. Though rather unclear, the circular emblem was discernible enough. It read: **KGH**

I knew what it stood for; I was familiar with the acronym, as I'd once inquired about the very infirmary. **Konoha General Hospital **Before the newer, more advanced Medical Centre stood erect on the opposite side of town, I used to dream of becoming an intern in the old Hospital. I'd done my research thoroughly, and drawing from my knowledge, I was aware that the crest's shape and colour signified an employee's position. I knew what his crest meant.

Clicking back to idle screen, I pressed my thumb on **1, **remembering quite clearly that Sasuke had been the one to store his own name and number into the primary throne of my speed-dials. I rolled my eyes at the reminder of his immodesty as I listened to the soft chimes, waiting for the call to come through.

Sasuke answered on the fourth ring. "Sakura?"

"Dead end," I stated, plunging right to the point. "He works at the hospital. The dude's a _nurse_; I've never seen a man-nurse before." He's simply a strange, middle-aged man who lives alone, I thought of adding. "This is not our guy."

"Well, neither is a man with a wife and four kids," Sasuke replied, noticeably as defeated as I was about our outcomes, "...and a freaking Chihuahua."

I stifled a laugh, amused by his evident irritation. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I went in, pretended as a survey kid, and asked where he just came from. He mentioned the alley, said it was a shortcut from the supermarket; it was his first time taking that route." No wonder he looked so afraid, I thought. The place w_as _quite daunting. "The man bought diapers. Huggies, Sakura, he even showed me. He sure as hell isn't who we're looking for."

I sighed, guiding my eyes back upon the utterly shock-still residence. The lack of anything worthy to report reminded me of the night's fruitless exploits. "So where does that leave us?"

"Absolutely nowhere."

Movement. A passing blur in the corner of my vision.

My head shot up reflexively, viridian orbs automatically searching the source of the sudden flash of motion. As soon as I laid eyes on the white-washed structure, I spotted it. Off the side of the building was a lone windowpane, plainly garnished by a pale cloth like the rest of the windows. So threadlike it was nearly see-through, the curtain gleamed as lights from within the house shone through, forming shadows of what I can only imagine were furniture of the interior. Narrow posts resembled the shape of lamps, or coat hangers; a large quadrangle appeared to be the refrigerator, while a melange of multiple specks held by one large branch seemed to be a plant. In spite of these definite shapes, it was the organic, woolly contour on the partially concealed side of the building that drew my attention.

"Sakura?"

Against the lone casement, made visible by the radiance on the other side, the outline of a man formed upon the sallow drapery. With squared shoulders and a rigid posture, he stood facing directly out the window, as though he could somehow see through the impeding textile.

My eyebrows knitted in curiosity, interest suddenly sparked.

"H-he—" I cleared my throat, forcing voice to coherently form the words in my mouth. "He's... just standing there."

"Who? The hospital guy?"

Just as the word "_Yes" _was making its way from my brain, through my throat and out my lips, the man's silhouette against the curtain moved to the left and vanished. I blinked. "He's... gone."

From the other line, I heard the Uchiha noisily exhale. "Whatever," he exhaled. "Clearly, this night's a waste. Let's just go home."

"You go," I told him, shuffling through untamed hedge plants and stray branches to get to my feet. "I think I'll look around for a bit."

"What do you mean, _look around_?"

"I mean, the lights are all on inside the house."

"What's _that_ got to do with anything?"

"I can just sneak a peek into a window and—"

"What?" Sasuke scowled sceptically. "Look, just... where are you?" I told him the address. "That's not far from here. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Why? I'm just going to look."

"Stay where you are—"

"I'm gonna go, okay? I'm hanging up."

"At least wait for me—"

"Thanks for coming with me. Go home, Sasuke."

"You idiot—" I flipped the phone shut with a click. It would take me no more than half a minute to cross over to the house, look into the window and then leave. Sasuke's worry was unnecessary. Dusting off my jeans, I shoved the clamshell into my purse and, without bothering to zip the bag close, broke out of my hiding place and dashed athwart the street. Within a matter of moments I had my back against the side of the garage, creeping around the back en route for the window in which I'd last seen the man—or his shadow, rather. I stole beneath the jutting panes of each window and, upon reaching my destination, I crouched under the specific casement, careful to hide under its shade and avoid the beams that slipped from between the curtains.

The rambling words of the local news mixed with a chaotic arrangement of commercials seeped through the sill and reached my ears. Cautiously, I edged closer, and with a deep breath strained my neck to peer through the glass. I had no idea why my pulse was beating like drums in a rock concert, or why my heart palpitated like it possessed an assemblage of galloping horses. When I looked through the crystal-like substance however, what met my eyes was nothing worth being terrified for.

Through a small gap between the curtains, I caught sight of what seemed like a regular study. Medical-related books lined the shelves that were embedded on the far wall; a cluttered desk rested beside it, with a lit-up, inactive computer screen atop the counter. I couldn't make out the files and documents encumbered over the workplace, but from what little I could see I recognized hues and shapes: they were pictures. Off the corner of the writing table, a diminutive, black mechanism sat, it's large, round lenses faced at me with sinister forthrightness...

All of a sudden, blackness materialized before my eyes. The dark material obstructed my line of sight and just about the entire span of the sheet of glass. I pulled my head back, staring at the strange barrier, slowly realizing that it was a pair of slacks, fastened in place by a band of white fabric, like a belt.

My heart stopped.

At a snail's pace, I forced my eyes to travel up the figure's body. He stood right in front of the window, looking down at me. Though most of his face was screened by the stray fringes of hair falling over his forehead and the shade created by the light directly behind him, and though his eyes were concealed by the reflection of light on the glass of his spectacles, none of these impediments hid the unmistakable curve of his mouth.

His lips were turned, ever so subtly, into a smirk. As though he'd been expecting me.

I stumbled backwards, mouth agape and ready to shriek though I hadn't the moral fibre to do it. Staggering, I stood clumsily on my feet, palms scratching the uneven granite as I pushed myself up. My brain had no control over my body; I moved with instincts, not rational thinking, and before I could think better of my hurried, careless shuffling, I swivelled, twisting my ankle. Or had I stepped on it? Put too much weight?

I didn't know, couldn't tell, for all I was aware of at that moment was the sharp pain that travelled up my left leg and seemingly through the rest of my suddenly heavy limbs. I bit my lip so as to suppress the scream that fought to erupt from my throat. Ignoring the throbbing pain, I limped across the yard and out of the man's residential lot. The echo of clattering articles reached my heightened organs of hearing, the clanking of plastic and metal and earphones hitting the solid cement, yet I dared not to go back and pick up these fallen possessions of mine. I only ran.

My bag, its closure still zipped open like an empty, bottomless gash, dangled flippantly on my shoulder, suddenly weightless.

* * *

To say that Sasuke was livid at the sight of me unpleasantly dishevelled, panting breathlessly and limping, would be an understatement. All told, he _freaked._

"I told you," he roared, stone-cold pools of onyx drowning me in utter intensity and close examination, methodically inspecting ever inch of my being. "...to _wait_ for me, didn't I? Why the hell didn't you listen? Look where it got you." With every passing second, he sounded more and more like a parent. _Or an overprotective boyfriend_, a voice hissed in the back of my mind.

"And I told you," I retorted with the same voice of obstinacy, "that it's nothing. I looked into the window, got busted, panicked and hurt myself. I wasn't in danger or anything."

"He didn't hurt you?"

"No," I assured him for the twentieth time. "He didn't even get out of the house."

He had my ankle in a gentle hold, stabilizing it from any more excessive movement. "So this is from your own stupidity?"

I glared at him.

Though I hadn't tottered very long before coming across Sasuke, who was already headed for my location, the time and distance throughout which I forced my foot to mobilize, dragging it for some couple of blocks, had only worsened the joint's condition. By the time Sasuke had found me, sat me down a nearby bench, slipped off my sandals and lifted my jeans, my ankle, disgustingly, was about the size of an apple and was as red as so.

"Is it broken?" I inquired as he checked the swelling. He glanced at me, and then back at my foot. Raising a hand, he let a finger hover over injured joint and, without any warning, pushed down with excruciating pressure. Cold pain burst through my ankle and clamped onto my lower calf.

I screamed, earning myself odd looks and whispered murmurs from the strangers that passed.

"I wouldn't worry," Sasuke diagnosed with an indifferent shrug. "It's just a sprain."

"What the _hell_!" I shot at him, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. The twinges that sorely gripped the entirety of my left limb nearly had me screeching my head off. "Why would you—"

"If it was broken," he explicated, unaffected by my animosity and wholly unconcerned by the hurt I was in; "you'd be too busy bawling your eyes out to yell at me. So no, there _is_ no fracture."

I groaned, eyes shut tightly as I tried to shake away the lingering soreness. It only intensified. "I _can't_," I gasped, half sobbing, "believe you just did that. Sasuke—oh god, that hurt!"

"Maybe it'll teach you to listen to me next time," he taunted pitilessly, followed by a sigh of fatigue, exasperated compliance and then, though this I could've simply imagined, relief.

A cool finger grazed across my ankle, against the red, swollen skin and lingering there. And then, with such gentleness that contrasted his rough treatment towards me only seconds before, he lowered my leg to the ground. "Sorry," he muttered so low it was barely audible as he took my sandal and smoothly slipped it on, like Cinderella's prince himself, his touch tender, deliberately avoiding the bloated, pulsating redness.

"Get up." He stood, pulling me with him, _to_ him. "I called you a cab."

On cue, a bright vehicle turned around the corner and was gunning to our spot, its stereotypical bright-yellow mass standing out amidst other cars; it drew to halt in the shoulder lane beside us.

"What about you?" I asked Sasuke once he had me settled into the backseat, realizing only then that he wasn't getting in.

Sasuke's head shook from left to right. "Go ahead," he told me, simultaneously handing a few bills in advance to the taxi driver. "Put some ice for your ankle. And try not to move it when you're sleeping. I want you to call me when you get home."

Tiredly, I closed my eyes and nodded, about to lean into the comfort of old leather when I felt a tender peck on my forehead, warm and protective. Before I could react, the passenger door gently slammed and the engine rumbled beneath me, driving away.

I peered through fatigued, half-open lids and watched Sasuke shrink from my vision, the image of him progressively receding in the side-view mirror of the minicab. In one overwhelming wave, the weight of my arms and legs increased; my neck hurt from merely supporting my head, and my eyelids fought to close. With the extent of the night's length finally catching up to me, I found myself fading away, engulfed by the lingering aroma of fast food and pine-scented air fresheners.

After stumbling out of the cab, limping up the veranda's steps and then again up the much larger and more challenging stairway of my house, I finally reached the sweet security of my room. I threw my bag onto the bed, stripped away my coat, jacket and sleeved top until all I was left in were a tank top and jeans. Following two tablets of painkillers, I subsequently threw myself onto the mattress. The divan bounced, swallowing me whole in a mouthful of linen, cotton and comforters.

Low-lidded and half-asleep, I remembered my promise to Sasuke once getting home safely. Groggily stretching out my arm, I reached for the golden grey handbag that lay on the bed's brink and shoved my hand inside it for the small, handy unit that was my cellular phone.

But I felt no solid mould of a handset, no familiar shape of a clamshell phone. Instead, only the soft feel of the interior's material, of fine silk and inner cotton lining, smoothly abraded the tips of my fingers.

It was gone.

I withdrew my hand, too worn out to worry, too lethargic to be upset. Casting away these worries for now, I welcomed sleep with open arms, letting my thoughts wander through fresh recollection, memory-hopping from my rendezvous with Gaara and our drive around the city, to his touch on the skin underneath the fabric of my shirt, Sasuke's displeasure, our futile findings... and then, the strange man who lived alone, who had evoked nothing in my remembrance yet, strangely, something in Sasuke's.

Unconsciousness pulled me in deeper as this brain wave ran through my faltering mind, one jumbled mesh after another. Oddly, it was not the urgent touch of Gaara's hands and lips that I felt as I balanced on the brink of sleep and wakefulness.

Rather what occupied my mind, my dreams, was that light, fleeting kiss on my forehead that I could have easily imagined, my skin tingling still where his lips had brushed as I fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to me, as I swam through the waters of peaceful and contemplative slumber, an orange-highlighted window broke through the stagnancy of my computer screen, emitting that shrill, ear-splitting cry of warning.

* * *

Screams.

Raw and gnashing.

Shrieking voices.

These... _sounds_, strident and ear-piercing, resonating along the bare corridors from different points of the house, played the role of a wake-up call for me the following morning. As though someone had turned the volume up too high and situated the speakers alongside my ear, the incessant screeches of help and pain quivered my bones to the core, lifting me up to consciousness' surface. The desperate, wrenching noise bubbled into chimes and tinkles, just as shrill, seeping thickly into my dreams.

Before my eyes the gruesome illusion disappeared gradually, the red sea of corpses fading into the white background, their wide, inflamed eyes the last to die away, boring through me until the very last second. This alternate dimension of my nightmares, once black and white, was now bloodstained from the massacre, from the bath of crimson fluids that flooded this parallel world. Steadily, the picture lost colour, lightening, lightening until the scarlet smears on the wall, the floor, on my clothing and the trickles from the tips of my hair, were no more.

Crawling, clawing, I broke free from clutch of restless sleep.

The ringing continued.

I blinked up at the ceiling, at the unfamiliar assembly in which the small chandelier was attached, the strange angle of the stucco surface and the puzzling displacement of my surrounds. It occurred to me after a few moments: I'd slept on the wrong side of the bed, with my feet toward the headboard, one leg dangling of the edge of the mattress and the rest of my body dangerously close to falling over.

The windowpane, which should have been on the left side but instead was now newly located to my right, framed a sunlit portrait of the front lawn and the cobblestone driveway merging into the road, of clear blue heavens and the cloudless, fogless atmosphere. A beautiful day, I thought, but knew enough not to let the depiction fool me. The air, I knew, would be bitterly cold and dense, sub-zero temperatures nipping and compressing one's chest to a point of breathlessness.

It was the first day of December.

_This is the Haruno's residence. _The mechanic voice of the answering machine leached into my eardrums, drawing my interest from the picturesque sheet of glass. _Sorry we missed your call. Leave your name and message after the beep:_

"_Wake up, Sakura."_

I jolted upright, gaze zeroed in on the telephone base that shimmered a red light from far side of the room.

"_...You are listening, aren't you?"_

It was all of a sudden chilly, as though the wintry air had managed to leak into the room and into my body, forcing out warmth in tremors, but with a glimpse at the window I saw that it remained safely sealed. I wanted to run over to where the receiver sat and smash it to silence, but my body failed to move.

"_Go to the computer." _The voice was superiorly abrupt, anger underlying the terseness of his knowing tone._ "Let's talk about your recent behaviour, shall we?"_

The voice message ended with a soft click from the loudspeaker, but nothing was ever as simple as so. His eyes, one of his numerous, plentiful pairs of eyes, were still fastened upon me, ready to pick up the phone again with a threat if I hesitated any longer. Dragging my eyes to the computer screen, I got up and forced my feet to cross the distance between the mattress and the desk, careful not to insert too much pressure on the left heel. My ankle still throbbed, but the pain was dulled by rest, more bearable now than it was a couple hours ago.

At the reminder, last night's events came spilling into my head. How much of the evening's happenings was he aware of? Did he know about my going out with Gaara? Would he hurt him? _God, no_, I thought, before my mind moved on to the following occurrence: Sasuke. What if the Rogue found out about our trip to the alley? He'd harmed Sasuke, once, because of me, because he hated the Uchiha for meddling into the situation. Would he do it again?

Weakened, I slumped onto the seat in front of the PC.

There was an offline message, sent last night while I was asleep. His words, laced with malice and immersed in vice, shook me to the bone.

**Rogue sent Saturday, 01:17:50AM**

_**Sleep tight, Sakura. I'll deal with you tomorrow.**_

That tomorrow was right now. Another window appeared.

**Rogue: ****When you told Uchiha, broke the only rule we had about silence, I should have killed your parents right then. Maybe slit your father's throat and smashed your mom's skull. Annihilate your circle of friends.**

**But instead, I let you off with a warning.**

**Rogue: now, though, what with you running around with Sasuke, prying around like that, thinking, for even a second, that I wasn't watching... I'm pretty fucking pissed off. That's my patience's limit.**

**Rogue: Do you know what I'm going to do now Sakura? Do you want to know?**

I didn't. But I was pretty sure the question was rhetorical. With shivers worming up and down my spine, I waited in dread.

**Rogue: Actually, I don't even know myself. There are so many choices...**

**Rogue: I can kill a loved one of yours. Or a relative. I can kill your family, your beloved, innocent parents. Anyone close to your heart, Sakura, can die in my hands in the next few hours.**

**lilpinkchiq: Right.**

I had no idea where I was able to get the fortitude to reply, but as I looked around and realized my being alone in the house, I felt a strange sense of comfort. As solitude and silence surrounded me, respectively overcrowding the room and buzzing in my ears deafeningly, the isolation that generally had me terrified now provided consolation.

**lilpinkchiq: except my parents are out of town. And we don't live near any family or relatives.**

**lilpinkchiq: You can't touch any of them.**

**lilpinkchiq: I'm alone. There's no one here close to me you can hurt.**

Suddenly, a new message box materialized above my current conversation with the Rogue.

**omg-its-ino! **_**(Mobile, SMS)**_**: OH EM GEE sak i've been calling ur cell like forever. i have BIG news**

_**Rogue: You think that will stop me?**_

**omg-its-ino! **_**(Mobile, SMS)**_**: JUST GOT MY LICENCE BABE! **

_**Rogue: You think, just because your family is safe...**_

**omg-its-ino! **_**(Mobile, SMS)**_**: still have to wait an hour though, cuz they have to get registrations done. So booooring. **

_**Rogue: ...that there is no longer anyone close to you that I can hurt?**_

**omg-its-ino! **_**(Mobile, SMS)**_**: anyway, im finally driving dad's bmw! Let's celebrate! Brunch. Sushi!**

_**Rogue: Tell me Sakura,**_

**omg-its-ino! **_**(Mobile, SMS)**_**: meet me at noonish K? imma DRIVE there. lol**

_**Rogue: ...are you sure about that?**_

* * *

_**Unknown**_

The gust of wind nipped at the exposed flesh of his fingertips, infiltrating the leather of his gloves and into his cooling palm. Tresses whipped freely across his bare face, the deep colour of them contrasting the paleness of his skin, harmonizing with the dusk in his eyes.

With iciness that matched those of his orbs, harsh, wintry air whizzed in a stunning velocity, and even the plot behind the warehouse, flanked by high, concealing walls of factories, railroad tracks and other neighbouring depots, was not protected from these glacial pangs of winter's slow emergence. Yet despite the sub-zero temperature that suffocated all of Konoha, and the even lower wind chill, he sauntered unfalteringly across the area with nothing more than a pair of gloves, slacks and a shirt. He ignored the cold, enjoying its biting sensation on his body's exposed skin, indulging the control he possessed over such insignificant pain.

He felt nothing.

He made his way towards a pale-headed man, on the opposing corner of the square, with long, confident strides, fixing upon him an empty stare he'd perfected since he was a child. Halting several feet from the four-eyes, he spoke, "You disobeyed me."

The man twitched. "I don't get why you're so pissed. I scared off the girl, didn't I? That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

"I told you," he started calmly, annoyance and impatience masterfully tucked beneath an emotionless facade. "to lose her. That's hardly comparable to leading her home and playing peek-a-boo through the window. Now," The chain looped through his finger clinked, its contents swinging. "I've a little task for you."

He, that unimportant, disgusting little creature that voluntarily licked his master's shoes, dared to answer back at him. "You know," he said, "I'm getting pretty sick of you bossing me around. Let's get one thing clear: I don't work for _you._"

Inch by inch, the corners of his lips coiled, taking the shape of a smile. "Let's get one thing clear," he mimicked in monotone, his tone never rising, never falling; "we both know I have a lot on you. So I suggest you don't anger me any further." That shut him up. Good. "Don't worry though," he continued, "After all this, you can return to being your master's little puppy. The snake's... _chew_ toy."

A razor-sharp glare.

"Fuck you."

He nearly laughed at the man's immature reaction to the innuendo, his incapability to defend himself, knowing the statement was true. "I'm only going along with this 'cause it's a job. And... the chick _is_ quite amusing."

"Of course she is." That was why he'd kept her alive for this long in the first place, because she was so enjoyable, so addicting, like his very own nicotine. Commonly, his players never last longer than a couple of weeks; any longer and he would lose interest, killing them off the moment they fail to satisfy his amusement, his needs. Sakura was a record-breaker.

With a flick of his wrist, the keychain slipped from his grasp and flew through the air in one fluid motion. The man before him caught it and stared dumbly at the small entity, as though he'd never seen a set of keys tied together in a single shackle before. "What is this?"

"Keys for the Hummer." He almost sighed at the reminder of the mighty, prevailing car, the epitome of pristine. Pity that such a beautiful manufacture was predestined to be scratched; it was even worse to think that it would have to be abandoned afterwards. What a waste. "You'll need a huge vehicle for the job," he informed.

"Which is what?"

"Between eleven forty-five and twelve PM. HLIC, building 122, Timber Hills, along the Alpine Route. Do you know the place?"

The man nodded sceptically, "Yeah. Hidden Leaf Insurance Corporation. That's a Driver Licensing Office, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied. "There will be a girl, blonde, my age, leaving the building within this time interval. Her car will head south of the freeway, a BMW."

A pause.

"Yeah, and?"

A smile engraved itself upon his mouth, lips curling towards the sky.

"I want you to drive it off the ravine."

* * *

_Note: Back from fighting through my last month –ever– of high school! I just fed our recycling bin with cue cards 12cm tall and a pile of papers I couldn't even measure cuz it was taller than my 30cm ruler. Goodbye senior year stress, hello lazy summer days, caramel Starbucks frapps and quick updates! =)_

_Read, Review and Thank You__. =) You guys are so amazing and supportive, and every review makes me want to keep writing. I'd appreciate the feedbacks and comments._

_OH, and... btw, as for who the Rogue was talking about in that last chap, while all of you guessed Temari and Kankuro and Gaara's parents..._

**_SomethingLikeFate_**_ goes: What did you mean by "his own blood"? I'm hoping Temari... because if him and Sakura are related... that's awkward._

_LOL Ahahahha that made my day. You guys are hilarious._

_No more a high school kid and now a university undergrad,  
__Keelah =)_

* * *

**Last.****15. Chapters.**

_This is the 15th to the last._  
_So, really, 14 more to go._  
_15 just sounded cooler. x)_


	49. Brink of Uncertainty

Here's a little treat! Visit...  
**tomatoxcherrylover. deviantart. com/gallery /#/d3etm2c  
**(Take out the spaces, my geniuses)

...for Tomatoxcherrylover's awesome IM Fanart & Leave an amazing comment for this equally awesome artist!

Happy Reading! =)

* * *

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_She's... she's alive?" I asked, relief flooding through my veins in barricading hordes._

_A pregnant pause. And then, the dreadful, uncertain truth:_

"_I don't know, Sakura."_

* * *

_**Chapter FORTY EIGHT  
**__**Brink of Uncertainty**_

12:10

The Sushi eatery was crammed with people, from children with their mothers to elderly seniors with their cranes that blocked the aisles, as everyone sought refuge in the luscious warmth of restaurants. The overwhelming aroma of seafood, hot rice and soup rose in the air while bowls and boxes of raw, grilled, simmered, steamed and deep-fried cuisine circulated the eatery on the supporting arms of practiced employees. I watched the calm commotion and continuously scanned the crowd, every so often flicking my eyes to doors whenever the welcome-bells would tinkle, only to be disappointed.

12:26

My fingers tapped on the ragged, wooden surface of the counter, counting seconds, minutes and hours. I let my gaze wander around the small homey scope in which I was situated, trying to ignore the small, interminable pangs of annoyance that sizzled within me.

12:42

I looked down again on my own empty table, eyeing the faint, colorless steam rising from the round lip of the teacup; the water, once boiling, was now at room temperature. A lady with a red apron uniformly tied around her waist noticed the cooling beverage and, without having to ask, refilled the half-empty goblet for the sixth time that afternoon.

1:15

Slumping back against the seat cushion, I wondered about how I must look right now, sitting here on my own: stupid, perhaps; lonesome, definitely; maybe even somewhat insane? My hand dropped on my handbag, feeling its unusually light weight, wishing I hadn't lost my phone.

1:59

Where the hell was she?

2:21

A sigh escaped from my lips. My left ankle throbbed. I rested an elbow on the tabletop and leaned against my palm. Seconds later, I shifted again. I ran a finger around the teacup's rim, felt the heat of the vapour tingle my skin, and sighed again. My legs swung to and fro beneath me. I blinked, fidgeted, sighed.

2:37

"Sakura?"

I jumped, whipping my head up.

"Oh," I exclaimed feeblemindedly, blinking with surprise. It wasn't exactly the company was expecting. "Hey."

"Hi." He leaned against the door frame, head tilted to one side, eyes evidently amused at my undoubtedly strange reaction. At the edge of his lips was a suppressed smile. He nodded to the vacant chair on the other side of the table. "May I sit?"

"Uh, yeah." I flustered, "Go ahead."

As confident as a tiger whilst retaining its feline grace, Sai seated himself before me. Meeting my eyes again, he plastered the same laughing smile on his face. "Strange. Last time I saw you, you were eating by yourself, too." I flushed. "Do you make a habit out of this?"

"Well, both times, _you_ just happen to pop out of nowhere." I answered back, turning the tables around. I leaned forward, my eyes playfully narrowed into slits of suspicion. "Are you stalking me?"

A laugh, whole and velvety, escaped his lips. He shook his head as though the question was ridiculous, as if to say "_You wish_" which is just the tart, frank kind of response I expected. His hair shook in the process, causing a few jet-black tresses to fall over his eyes, two equally black pools orbs which bore into my own. He gave me no answer.

"So what brings you here?" I asked him.

"Superstore across the street." He gestured to the window on the far wall, a floor to ceiling sheet of glass that viewed the stretch of the road outside. On the other side of the lane was a massive one-story building, its deep red logo appellation visibly implanted above the multiply sliding glass doors: _Safeway. _"I'm on grocery-shopping duty," Sai explained sheepishly.

"So I haven't seen _you _in a while." I started, glancing at his unfilled hands, at the empty spaces beside his feet and the bare vacancy of his vicinity, "Like, in class. You never go to Art, anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "Nice to know you missed me."

"Ugh," I glared at him, jokingly. "Your ego is bloated."

"Thank you," he grinned. "And I've been busy. We're doing more sessions and outdoor activities than class work."

I nodded, understanding. "Yeah. Well, I've been pretty preoccupied too."

Sai easily caught the sombreness in my tone. His smile was wiped away, replaced by the contortion of his features and a staring look of intensity. "What's wrong?"

"Uh," I backtracked, unprepared for the sudden expression of concern. "Well, a lot, I guess. But don't worry."

His eyes roamed my countenance, studying me. "You're upset." I shook my head. "Is this about Ino?"

I blinked, my thoughts halting. "Huh?"

"I know, it was awful. I mean, I couldn't believe it when I heard about it this morning..."

"W-what?" I sputtered, wholly bamboozled at the words and phrases coming out of his mouth. "I don't... I don't understand... what are you talking about?"

"Ino." He stated, as though the single, three-letter name explained everything. It did not calm the raging questions raved and swirled in my skull, but only rendered the tornado to gain size and momentum. "Isn't that why you're upset?"

I opened my mouth to speak, yet bewilderment prevented all coherent words from successfully being verbalized. He looked at me pitifully, mistaking my loss of words for something other than what it was: confusion; and supposing that it was something else: grief—though I could not at all conceive why he would make such an assumption.

"I don't... I—" I stuttered, "Why—why would I be upset?" The sympathy in Sai's visage then melted and formed into something else; he gazed at me with an odd, remorseful look in his arsenic eyes, thus bringing about in me a strange, jabbing sensation that I could not identify. What was previously irritation towards Ino spiralling in my stomach slowly developed into something else, something dreadful.

"You mean you don't know? I thought since the two of you were close, you'd know..." He paused. "The news was everywhere this afternoon."

"_What_ news?" I demanded, desperate, exasperated, the pulsing of the blood-pumping organ in my chest pounding against my rib cage, thrashing about for absolutely no solid reason. "_What_ happened?"

"The car accident."

I froze.

"Didn't you hear?" Sai questioned, "Her car spun off the freeway. She crashed into the ravine."

* * *

Stores, bistros, ambling pedestrians and advertising displays—the entire panorama gradually blurred into nothing more than a mesh of painted streaks, a rushing parade of colours and shapes in the corners of my vision.

Windows on either side of me were consisted of people, places and things turned into fleeting images and fast-moving pictures; it was the world at a stunning rapidity, an uncontrollable rush of happenings beyond jurisdiction. On the other side of the glass, I sat frozen in an instant of time; as life carried on outside, within me the seconds had temporarily halted in position, the arms of my clock unmoving.

Time elapsed in my surroundings, and I watched as it left me behind.

My foot remained steady on the throttle, pressing harder and harder without my knowing as each minute slipped away, knuckles whitening from my clutch around the leather wheel.

The Japanese restaurant hadn't been too far from my house, only a few blocks away. I'd run there, despite the aching sprain of my left foot, driven by haste and desperation, by the desire to be alone and for things to take a different turn. I was still wishing for impossible by the time I'd reach the pathway of the front yard, and by then I didn't know what came over me, didn't know what I was thinking. My brain was unclear, memories indistinguishable. I remembered running to the kitchen, seizing the silver entity atop the refrigerator and opening the garage door.

I'd turned the ignition before anything fully registered into my brain—it seemed nothing did at that moment—and soon I was gunning down the road.

"Call." I spoke aloud, eliciting a beep from the sedan's speakers as the installed system lit in activation. My voice quivered as I recited, "Dial seven, two, seven; eight, five, three, eight."

It rang, once...twice...

"Yeah?" came an answer on the third ring.

"Sasuke?" I asked, my voice a frail whisper.

"Who's this?"

"Sakura."

"..._Sakura_?"

"Some—something happened to Ino." This time, my words came out as a sob. Tears, ones that I'd attempted to repress the last few minutes, spilled out in hysterical blubbers, the salty droplets obstructing my view of the road. At the sound of Sasuke's voice, my resolve broke down, my facade shattered and my fear went on to overwhelm me. I cried, "Accident. She... fell—she just got her licence and then, she was driving and, and she was supposed to meet me but she never came..."

"Sakura—"

"Then her car, it drove off the road, and there was a cliff, beside it, and she fell, and it crashed—"

"Sakura, Sak—hey, calm down—"

"Her car, her car went over! She crashed below, and—" I wheezed, feeling a swelling ball of panic in the bottom of my throat, blocking inhalation. "Oh god, Sasuke, I just heard about it. I don't even... I don't even know if she's alive. I don't—"

"She's in the Medical Centre. Sakura, I can hear you wheezing. Just breathe."

"She's _what_?"

"I saw the news," Sasuke told me. "Paramedics rushed her to the emergency about an hour ago."

"She's... she's alive?" I asked, relief flooding through my veins in barricading hordes.

A pregnant pause. "I don't know, Sakura." Fretfulness returned, more overflowing than it was just moments before. I shut my eyes, willing to keep back the tears, but they fell anyway, dribbling insolently down my cheeks.

A beeping horn tore through my mind and ears.

Adrenaline knocked through me as I twisted the wheel, tires screeching beneath me as they fought against asphalt to make the sharp, sudden turn. The vehicle swerved dangerously close into the oncoming lane before I took control and brought it back in its respective track. Those around me veered off correspondingly, avoiding fatal collisions, followed by a riot of angry horns.

"What the hell was that?" Sasuke demanded.

"Nothing," I gasped as every nerve ending of my being crackled with alarming thrill, the sure residues of my near brush with death.

"I've been trying to reach your phone. Whose number is this?"

"It's the car's number."

"The car's?" Sasuke echoed, puzzled.

"Onstar." I babbled, "It's the vehicle's built-in phone line, my dad subscribed to it, for, you know, hands-free calling. It's safer that way, and—"

"Sakura," Sasuke interjected. I halted in mid-sentence, taking note of the sudden tautness in his voice, now rigid with displeasure, the undercurrents of frustration pulling beneath each syllable of my name. "You're _driving_?"

"I..." My voice faltered, failing me. "Yes, I was gonna head to the group home, to see you, but I... I just changed routes. I'm on my way to the hospital."

"Do you have a licence?"

"Um," I bit my lip, "No."

"Do you even _know_ how to drive?" he growled, audibly aggravated. "Stop the car."

"But I need to get to the hospital!" I shouted at him, incredulous that he wasn't on my side, that he was worrying about me when Ino could have already been dead. I was alive. She might not be. "Ino's there! I need to know how she is. I don't even know if she's still _breathing_. Don't you understand that? I need—!"

"I won't have you getting into an accident of your own," Sasuke thundered, his tone commanding and resolute, leaving no room for negations or resistance. "Stop the car."

Breathing harshly from the outburst, I stepped unwillingly on the brakes. I wanted to yell, to bawl my eyes out in opposition, yet all that escaped my lips was a small, childish sob and a hiccup.

"Sakura," Sasuke spoke gently, having heard my sounds of fragility. "Did you pull over?"

I nodded my head, though I knew he couldn't have seen the gesture. "Yes." The word came out as nothing more than a defeated murmur.

Sasuke heaved a sigh of relief. "I'll pick you up," he told me, soothingly, tenderly, as though I was a child needing comfort, as though I would break if he was even a decibel louder. Though he wasn't in the car with me, I felt him, felt his words wrapping around me like an envelope of his arms. "We'll go to the hospital, okay? I just want you to wait for me. Where are you?"

I told him the intersecting streets.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

True to his word, he came. My knight always did.

* * *

"Ino?" Sasuke inquired from the lady on the front desk. "She came in this noon."

"Last name?" queried the woman grimly, hands and fingers already readied over the dusty keyboard. Sasuke turned to me for assistance.

"Yamanaka." I forced out of my lips.

"Yamanaka, Ino." she repeated with a drawl, typing away without a trace of concern. She pressed each key with careful ease, in such a slow, languid manner that I wanted to slug her and tell her to hurry up. Without a spare glance at our direction, she monotonously enumerated the information we needed: "She was transferred to the Trauma Center. That's the wing to your left, down this hallway in the Intensive Care Unit."

"So she's alive?" I blurted.

The woman sent me a sidelong peek through her thick-framed glasses. "They wouldn't be _intensively caring_ for a person who's already dead."

Sasuke fired a lethal glare in her direction, silencing her with the single look of warning. She backed up, subtly leaning back into her seat. The woman sat blinkingly, probably wondering what had just happen as she watched Sasuke lead me away with a shielding, guiding hand on my back. Though a cruel bitch, I sympathized with her; after all, I, too, knew how it felt to be the receiving end of that same angry, Uchiha glower.

In the midst of my worry for Ino's safety—the fear in not knowing a clue about her condition at the moment, or how she was doing—and the smothering helplessness that ballooned in my chest, threatening to explode, I found myself smiling at Sasuke's subtle but protecting gesture.

* * *

Any trace of a smile or any smidgen of temporary joy I'd felt was immediately quenched at the sight of the Yamanaka's.

As the elevator dinged and Sasuke and I stepped off the platform, Mr. and Mrs. Yamanaka jolted out of their seats almost instantaneously and ran to greet me. A smile was plastered forcibly on their faces at my attendance, though the pleasant expression had failed to achieve their eyes—which remained a solemn blue, the ocean's hue at the heart of a storm, dimmed by clouds hovering overcast.

Willingly their arms extended and held me consolingly close, albeit anyone could tell it was them who needed the solace. It _was_ their daughter, after all. I hugged them back just as tightly, but wasted no time in asking, "How's Ino?"

"She's in surgery," Her father stated with a balanced voice, and I nearly collapsed with relief if Sasuke had unclasped his hand on my back.

However, from the reddened rims of Ino's father's eyes and the dried traces of tears that had no doubt cascaded down his cheeks, I knew, inwardly, that he was broken into splinters. Ino had always been a daddy's girl. "She's been stabilized," he went on, remaining strong for his wife and daughter, taking the role of a pillar for his family. "But her condition's critical. She didn't suffer major fractures, but it's her head..." He paused, recomposed himself, and continued, "She hit her head. Hard. But the doctors wouldn't tell us the extent of the impact."

"She just got her licence too..." Mrs. Yamanaka whispered, falling into another frenzy of weeps, as if talking about it relived the horrid facts about Ino's unsteady state. She leaned into her husband as he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her to him and away from the misery of it all. From sight of them crumbling before my eyes, I decided to dismiss the conversation; I'd ask a doctor when one appeared, but I couldn't draw out more details from Ino's parents, not them. That would be too cruel.

"We tried calling your phone." Her mother told me once her sobbing had calmed a bit. "You wouldn't answer. We left a message at your house. Your parents aren't home?"

"They're on a trip." I elucidated, "And I lost my phone, just last night." Sasuke sent a glimpse at my direction, but said nothing. "You two should sit." I began to pilot them toward the sitting area, where a large square of systematized chairs and low, linoleum tables were situated. "We can wait here for an update. Sasuke, what are you—Sasuke?"

I glanced back and found the raven-haired boy frozen in his tracks. Though his visage remained an expressionless slate, the slightest taint of shock reflected off his amused eyes, a pair of jet-black orbs which stared raptly at something past my shoulder. Following his gaze, I all but did a double take at the huddled shape seated on a green, cushioned seat in the middle of the lounge. The manner in which he sat, leaning forward with hands clasped before him and elbows propped on his knees, was rigid with controlled apprehension.

I batted an eyelid, wondering if this was an illusion somehow, and sent a quick look in Sasuke's way for any clarification of some sort; although he appeared to be just as baffled as I was.

"Is that...?" Sasuke began.

"Shikamaru?" I called.

The figure lifted his head in response as surprise flashed in his eyes for one fleeting moment, before darkening once again. He stood up, nodding once. "Hey," he muttered.

I peeked at Ino's parents, both of who, unlike Sasuke and I, were astoundingly unaffected by the brunette's company. As they passed, I caught the grateful look of Mrs. Yamanaka at the boy's direction and Mr. Yamanaka's acknowledging nod, as though already familiar with each other.

"What are you doing here?" I questioned as soon as Ino's were out of earshot, withdrawing to a corner of the room where they brooded in silence.

"Same as you," Shikamaru replied. His gaze flicked at Sasuke, whose eyebrow raised in question, visibly entertained. The brunette looked away, the skin of his cheeks now slightly flushed. "I'm here for Ino."

"But..._why_?" I asked, widely bewildered. "I mean, you don't even know each other."

"You're the one who set us up at the food court," he reminded sarcastically, "remember?"

My cheeks warmed, and I felt caught. "She told me you talked. But that was once." I paused, eyeing him. "That _was_ once, right? Or did it happen again without me knowing?"

He shrugged. "Did you know we're family friends? Our fathers went college together. Weird, huh?" I stared at him. "So, we... we hung out a couple times."

My eyes opened and closed rapidly, and opened and closed again. Blink, blink. There were so many degrees to which _hang out_ might have indicated, and I was surprised this had unfolded right under my nose. I guess I'd been more preoccupied than I'd thought. "But what about… Temari?"

His brows rose. "How did you—keeping up with gossip, are we?" Beside me, Sasuke let out a low chuckle. "We're broken up, I mean that was months ago. We've both moved on."

"But you just met Ino, like, last Tuesday. And you didn't even like each other at first."

"Yeah, well, things change." He flicked a glance at me, and then at Sasuke, before finally landing his eyes to where the Uchiha's hand still lay on the small of my back. Within the same instant, the warmth of his palm disappeared. Shikamaru raised a brow as he said, "_You two_ should know."

"How did you know about the accident?" I asked steering back on topic. "How did you even know before I did?"

"Who do you think drove her to the licensing office?"

I gawped, grasping the indication in his words. "You were with her?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. "I saw the crash."

I remembered the exchange with the Rogue the previous night, remembered his words as they toppled over each other in surging waves that invaded my mind.

_You think, just because your family is safe, that there is no longer anyone close to you that I can hurt?_

Shikamaru's eyes then intensified, growing grimmer, graver, as he told me the words I already knew:

"It wasn't an accident."

_You think that will stop me?_

* * *

_**Shikamaru**_

"Her car was pushed." Shikamaru asserted, "I saw it."

And he could see it even now, playing before his eyes, the memory a recurring segment of a film on replay. He saw the wheels of her front tires spin uncontrollably, surging forward from the force applied by the large red vehicle at the car's rear.

"I was on the sidewalk. I wasn't in the car with her after she got her licence." Just saying it filled him with another shot of regret. He should have been. He ought not to have left her on her own to drive down the undulating highway, especially with the patches of black ice that was in the most unexpected locations.

"You weren't?" Sakura prompted.

He shook his head. "We had places to go to. I had... to do the groceries. We take turns doing the shopping in the house. It's my turn this week." He halted, noting the peculiar blankness that had came over the pink-haired girl's countenance. Shikamaru supposed it was due to the lame, pathetic degree of his excuse. She gathered herself a moment later, shaking away whatever reverie she'd been caught in. "So, anyway, we decided to just split up."

Only a few hours before the incident he had promised her parents that he was to take her home safely after the appointment—except she'd told him she was meeting Sakura to celebrate, and he on the other hand, had some errands. Therefore, he broke the initial agreement and let her go on her own.

They parted ways. He watched as Ino ducked into the driver's seat and pulled out of the vehicle's parking slot; she waved at him, white teeth glistening in a grin, blue eyes glinting like the ocean under the sun, before manoeuvring her father's car out of the building's driveway. He was still watching as the BMW merged into the thoroughfare and rounded around the bend; as it suddenly jolted forward and skidded, rubber tires failing to grip the ice; and, ultimately, he watched as the automobile broke effortlessly through the railing, as though the bands of steel were made of flimsy paper.

In the bat of an eyelid, the car was gone, already over the edge and plummeting down the ravine.

Strangers, curious spectators, had tumbled out of offices and stores, drawn out by the startling noise. Their chaotic thuds of running feet and frantic exclamations echoed stridently in the background, but only the thumping of his heartbeat, his voice straining a futile cry of her name, and the deafening roar of crashing metal, glass and rocks were all that resonated in his skull.

It was possible that the second vehicle had gone berserk as well, and he'd thought of that possibility, gone through it in his head a dozen times. However, the more he mentally reran the event, the surer he became that the Hummer had had utter control even as it rammed to the fore, thrusting Ino's coupe closer and closer to the sheer drop—at the bottom of which awaited immense, razor-sharp fragments of unbreakable rocks and deathly boulders.

Throughout his years Shikamaru had wrestled his way through many hardships, whether those be in the form of dangerous people, impossible situations or irresistible addictions, as have most—if not all—of the guys in the program. Nevertheless, the thought of being helplessly caught inside a two-thousand pound machine accelerating at an astounding rate, plunging several feet below to the ravenous, rocky jaws of the earth, as the ground rushed up for one, massive swallow, had him shuddering to the bone. Thirty to forty feet, the cops had said. It was the height from which she'd fallen.

People, dilemmas and addictions, he could handle; gravity, however, was an unstoppable, uncontrollable force beyond man's control.

Yet at the fact that it was Ino who had to face such an experience, he was overcome with an even worse feeling. He'd rather it be him than her...

—His thoughts came to halt, this most recent notion surprising him more than anything else. He had never been one to sacrifice; too troublesome, he always considered it to be. But now...

"Did you tell the police?" Sakura inquired as he told them all this—excluding, of course, that very last fraction. He had kept that certain part of his deliberation inside his head as a silent account.

His head swung from left to right in response to the girl's question. Negative. "I tried. But... I was the only one who saw. People only came out when they heard the crash, after Ino went over." Everything had happened so fast. "The vehicle was gone by then."

"Did you get the plate number?" Sasuke asked, speaking for the first time.

"No, I—no. I was too shocked—" He clenched his fists. "I didn't. I should have."

"Don't worry about it."

This did not console him at all. "The cops didn't believe me when I said it wasn't an accident. They think I was making it up 'cause I'm angry, or that I'm in some kind of shock. They're calling it an accident, that the other car just drove off in fear." He shook his head. "But that's bullshit. I know what I saw."

"Can't forensics do anything?" The question came from Sakura.

"The car's a total wreck," he told her, "It'll be pretty hard to find any damage that might have happened before the fall. Plus, I'm not exactly in the greatest position when it comes to cops. They wouldn't take my word for it. That bastard, Genma?" He motioned to the Uchiha, who nodded back. Shikamaru knew that he, too, was... _well-acquainted _with these officers. Sakura's eyes shifted back and forth between them, evidently clueless. "He was there. You could imagine how _that_ turned out." Sasuke nodded again in understanding.

"The thing is," Shikamaru said, going back to the matter at hand. "I can't imagine anyone who would do this, who would want to hurt Ino. But then..." But then he remembered Sakura and that time at the food court, how distressed she always was, and how, coincidentally, death and disaster seem to be at her tail, at every place she graced with her presence. She was there when they found out about Karin, then Suigetsu, and just recently: that HLA instructor, Watkins or something. He knew she and Ino were close, and was well aware of the fact that Ino had been on her way to meet her cherry-headed best friend that noon before the fateful occurrence came to pass.

It didn't take his genius brilliance to connect the pieces and solve the conundrum.

"So now I've got this craziest thought, Sakura," His gaze locked onto viridian pools, reading her fidgety movements and the remorseful glaze of her eyes like an open book with large-print letters. "That Ino's accident is somehow connected to you." Lowering his voice, he continued, "Weird, huh?"

Sakura looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. "He pushed her, didn't he?" He asked her, "This is his doing, right? That guy who's got you so wound up, that guy who's stalking you. He hurt Ino to get to _you_."

The girl before him opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when her lips trembled. Her eyelashes glistened with threatening droplets. She was shaking all over.

Sensing her discomfort, Sasuke wrapped an automatic hand on her arm, and Shikamaru watched with mild amusement as Uchiha fluidly hauled the girl's brittle figure behind him. The raven-haired planted himself between her and Shikamaru, severing the unwavering hold of his eyes on Sakura's. Delicate emeralds were no more, and presently in their place were two cutting stones of solid onyx, hard and defensive, staring evenly back at him.

"What the fuck are you implying, Nara?" Sasuke demanded, taking control so Sakura wouldn't have to. "Don't you dare point fingers at her when you don't know anything."

"Whoa," Shikamaru recanted, shaking his head repetitiously and stepping away from the Uchiha. "Back off. That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

"I want to help you get this guy," Shikamaru said. "Whatever's going on..." with his tone resolute, and determination amplified, he voiced his resolve:

"I want in."

* * *

_Author's Note: Please don't dial the number above in hopes to call Sasuke. X)_

_My computer blue-screened, then no internet for weeks. AND THEN...ready for this? Drum Roll please! I've beeeeeen... __Plagarized. Plagairized? Plaigarized... Plagiarized! (holy crap. __I never even knew how to spell the word 'til now.)_

_It's upsetting. Authors spend __**hours and hours**__ writing, and for someone to spend half a second to "copy and paste" and claim our hard work as their own... is hard and hurtful. __I put time, effort and love into these chapters. __**THANK YOU**__ to those who realize that, who constantly review and encourage me, who ask permission if they would like to use this story in any way, to those who support me._

_**&Thank you so much **__Rawrchelle__ and __My Hopeless Romantic__ for letting me know! I love how authors here look out for each other. Lol_

_I'd appreciate the feedbacks you guys! It'll only take a second or two to hit the Review Button ;)  
Keelah._

_P.S. Oh my...I just read Jane Austen's __Pride and Prejudice__ (such big words. I swear I spent more time on the dictionary the reading the actual book), and then watched the 2005 movie (Kiera Knightley's), and omg... SWOOOOOON._

_My gawd, __**I want my own Mr. Darcy**__!_


	50. Clandestine

**February 29, 2012 Update: ATTENTION! THIS STORY IS NOW ON HIATU-**no, that's brutal, I'm just kidding. Keep reading.

Yes, I'm alive! The promise holds—I WILL finish this story. I've got the whole outline written out to the end, and I'm not wasting it. That said, the reason for the delay is... well, yes, school is keeping me busy, but also because I'm editing some character and relationship developments, just so when a certain little scene comes up, it's not as OOC or out of nowhere. I'm trying to smoothen the transition, kind of. Also, my first ending was a little... well, let's just say I'm editing the ending I planned as well.

On a totally unconnected note, anyone have any favourite awesome/funny/sweet one-shots from Naruto, Inuyasha, Ouran, FMA, etc.? Kind of hypocritical of me, but I hate waiting for updates too, so I've been reading a lot of one-shots lately. Ahaha Also, it's a quick read and gives me a little break from school.

I LOVE YOU GUYS. I'm writing and writing, don't worry. =)

* * *

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_He sees and hears everything. There's no refuge safe enough, or hidden enough."_

"_She talks about him like he's God or something," the boy muttered._

_But he was—in my life as of late, he was the God, the controller of my world, only instead of a heavenly being, he was a deity that had escaped from the gates of hell. _

* * *

_**Chapter FORTY-NINE  
**__**Clandestine**_

Sasuke and I fell silent. Rendered uncommunicative, we stared at the brunette for some sort of a follow-up explanation, though he gave none. This lad, who was supposedly a genius, who possessed knowledge further than a regular teenager's brain, had (not proposed) but forthrightly stated an appeal to walk through danger's domain and into the open arms of death—or rather, the embodiment of it.

And he had no idea.

It was Sasuke who recovered first. "You don't know what you're asking."

"Yeah, I do." Shikamaru did not waste a beat. "I can help and you know it."

Though Sasuke's lips thinned into a firm line, something in the leniency of his jet-black pools told me he was half-convinced already. "This guy we're dealing with, he's a lunatic, but a dead serious one." He lowered his volume a notch, so Ino's parents hadn't any chance to overhear. "Suigetsu—that was his doing," he spat, the reminiscence evidently still fresh and lucid in his mind, like the ragged, detailed scar after a bloody gash that never quite mended. "...and Karin," Sasuke whispered.

A few seconds of silence pulsated in the thick air around us. "I know," Shikamaru finally answered, solemn, surprising both me and the Uchiha. "I suspected as much."

In that moment, Sasuke bobbed his head, already decided it seemed, the silent approval a matter in which I had no say—even though the circumstance directly affected me. "Fine. And you're right, we _do_ need the help."

"I can track down who he is, or at least narrow the possibility," Shikamaru began, launching into action right then and there, out in the open within the waiting lounge abutting Ino's surgical room, as though the consequences of such negligence never crossed their minds. "Just give me a place to start."

"No."

Sasuke's head snapped towards me. "What?"

I shook my head. "We're not doing this," I told them, earning from each male a stare of perplexity and annoyance—as though I'd spoiled the fun, killed the thrill of catching the murderer. What hadn't occurred to them was that beyond the reaches of our senses, even at this very hospital, this very empty hallway, the Rogue could be listening in, eyeing our every move. The instant he discovers another trace of disobedience in my behaviour, he would, without a second's hesitation, begin to run through his sick and twisted mind a list of possible victims, picking out the ones closest to my heart. Without mercy, he would exterminate them.

Ino was his last warning. I had no intention of pushing the limits of his patience any more than I previously have.

"We can't—Sasuke, we can't drag anyone else into this."

"We need his brains," Sasuke nodded at his friend. "And even if we kept him in the dark, you think he wouldn't have figured it out anyway?"

I motioned towards Shikamaru. "What if he gets killed?"

"That's _his_ problem."

The topic of our conversation twitched at the Uchiha's dry tone. "I'm right here, you know."

"There's no saying what the Rogue will do once he finds out," I continued.

"The Rogue?" Shikamaru questioned.

"His alias," Sasuke elucidated. Facing me, he said, "You mean _if_ he finds out. Think about it, Sakura. Shikamaru's not exactly your closest friend—you guys barely even talk to each other. If we're careful, the Rogue will have no idea. We'll take precautions. He won't ever know."

"But he sees everything!" I persisted, "And hears everything. And is everywhere. There's no refuge safe enough, or hidden enough. Taking cover won't do any good."

"She talks about him like he's God or something." Shikamaru muttered.

But he was—in my life as of late, he was the God, the controller of my world, only instead of a heavenly being, he was a deity that had escaped from the gates of hell. He had power over my movements, whereabouts, words, decisions and even thoughts, taking away any will to think for myself. Slowly, gradually, he brought me insanity.

"He's human," Sasuke pronounced. "Even he has to blink, or close his eyes to sleep. We'll talk behind closed doors, pass notes. We'll never meet in public. We can do this without him knowing. Shikamaru, what kind of basis do you need?"

"Anything should do," Shikamaru replied, resuming their previous conversation before my interruption. "A phone number, maybe?"

I shook my head. "His calls are always blocked. But I have the e-mail that he uses on Messenger." Sasuke handed me a square piece of paper and pen (from where he acquired the writing implements, I didn't know) and I scrawled down the electronic address by memory, every letter and number hauntingly scored into the tissues of my brain. "What will you do with it?" I asked the lethargic whiz kid, somehow unable to imagine him directly messaging the Rogue for some unanswered questions.

"Dig up an IP address, then get into his inbox."

"You can do that?" I asked, incredulous, momentarily fascinated by this unfathomable extent of Googling that I thought had only existed in movies. "You'd be able to hack into his mail and read whatever's there?"

"Weaving through a back site would take too long, and firewalls, depending on their company, can be troublesome. I'll hack in, but only deep enough to reset the password." _Forget I asked_, I thought, but I nodded anyway, pretending to have followed every word. Shikamaru seemed not to have noticed; Sasuke, on the other hand, smirked. "Listen though, if this guy's as cunning as he sounds, I doubt he'd be reckless enough to leave anything hanging around."

"I thought everything online, stays online." I indicated, "Like, even if he deleted an email, it'd still be floating in cyberspace."

"Not if you're thorough, as the Rogue seems to be." Shikamaru remarked. "But I'll try. Seems impossible, though." How utterly negative, I thought. What did Ino ever see in him? "You wanna tell me what's this got to do with Orochimaru? You had me look him up a few days ago."

"We're thinking maybe they've worked together," Sasuke explained. "Or have some kind of connection."

Brown eyes sparked with sudden insight, a look I didn't understand but something that Sasuke obviously had. "You think so?" The Uchiha nodded.

I blinked. "What?"

"If they'd worked together," Shikamaru explained, "There's got to be a record somewhere. Some kind of transaction. Nothing underground's ever free. I'll look into it." He took the piece of paper with the Rogue's e-mail on it. "Anyway, I should... get back to Ino."

Suddenly, I took back my previous judgement of the sluggish genius. Maybe the intelligent sloth had a softer side he revealed only to my best friend. After all, the sole reason he had for helping me was for Ino, to avenge her, I supposed, or something chivalrous like so.

Nodding at Sasuke, who nodded back in the same curt manner all guys appear to master, he turned to retrieve his old green-leathered seat in the middle of the sitting area. He nodded at Ino's parents out of respect, before falling into his own void of remorse; brown eyes blanked straight ahead as he clenched and unclenched his fingers around the flimsy sheet that held the Rogue's e-mail. I watched him then as he blew out a sigh and buried his face into the clammy, nervous palms of his hands.

I glanced at the plain, round wall clock. Already three o'clock, two hours from the time Ino had been rushed here, and still there was no word from the doctors. I eyed the pallid double doors that lead to the Surgical Unit Hall and willed it to move, but it kept on the way it was, devoid of any shift or movement that indicated updates anytime soon. Despite the prayers of Ino's parents, her kind-of-not-really boyfriend's wishes and my own yearning hopes, the doors remained unopened.

A hand landed on my shoulder. I whirled about, finding Sasuke and behind him, an approaching mob of people, every one of whom possessed identical sky-blue eyes and white-blonde hair. Relatives, I presumed; the rest of the Yamanaka clan. I stepped aside to let them through, looking away as I deemed necessary when they began to console Ino's parents, exchanging embraces, with salt tears spilling here and there.

"Sakura?" I gazed into Sasuke's penetrating eyes, electric hues of black, blue and a daub of violet merging into bottomless helixes. His grip tightened on my shoulder, steadying me before I even realized I was trembling. "Calm down," he whispered to me, guiding the way to the elevator. "You gotta hold it together for the next few days. If you're too tense, the Rogue will notice that something's up."

But we would never be able to maintain the frontage, I thought. The Rogue would know. He always did. It was impossible to hide from someone all-pervading, impossible to keep secrets from someone all-knowing.

"What if he asks for another kill?" I demanded. The nurse at the information desk peered at us with an interested eye.

Sasuke pulled me into the elevator and waited until the sliding doors had shut fully before replying: "Play along."

I stared at him, uncomprehending. "What?"

"I said, play along."

I gasped, finally understanding his meaning. "You mean give him a _name_?" The exclamation boomed in the small cage, rattling the few chords that held us in midair. It probably didn't help that I had, in the heat of the moment, unconsciously stomped my feet. We rocked unsteadily, though the diversion was not enough to pacify my sizzling emotions. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Sakura—"

"I can't believe you just—"

"For _now_," he cut off, "for now I need you to play along. If the Rogue gets any angrier, he might hurt you."

"But I can't... I can't give him another person to kill!"

"Don't you want to stop him?" Sasuke hissed, palpably frustrated. "Haven't you ever thought ahead, that if he kills you, he'll only prey on some other victim, and it'll go on and on unless someone does something about it? You can do that. You're saving dozens of other lives he's bound to take in the future."

"What I'm doing is taking the easy way out by giving him what he wants."

Sasuke stepped forward, cornering me into the golden railing that bordered all three sides of the winch.

"You are not a coward, Haruno." But the very beads of salt water taking shape in the corners of my eyes until his face, merely inches from mine, distorted into indiscernible blurs, was an indication that I was. I looked away from him, feeling somewhat betrayed.

Why was he forcing me to do this? I didn't want to commence on another Rogue-bound exploration, what with the failure of the past two attempts and having had caused two people serious injuries: Sasuke and Ino respectively. I couldn't bear the thought of a third casualty because I was so naive as to think I could discover his identity with a little snooping. I've tried to fight off the Rogue, and each defiant act had been rewarded by an accompanying punishment, the death or injury of someone else, owning to the Rogue but on account of my ignorance... my fear... my lack of guts.

So why was Sasuke pushing me so hard? I'd told him all this because he wanted me to, because I thought he'd help me, but why was he making it worse by telling me to _give the Rogue a kill_? Why was he—

A finger latched under my chin, tilting my face back to him and pinning me in place with the sharpness of his gaze. "If it were anyone else," he murmured, "they wouldn't have fought the Rogue this long. They wouldn't have survived this far. You're the bravest girl I know."

"Sacrificing others for _my_ sake doesn't really have that heroic ring to it," I bit sarcastically.

"Is that what you think you're doing?" Sasuke demanded, "You think you're being selfish? You're not the one self-centered here, Sakura."

My back pressed into the mirror-walls of the elevator as he leaned forward and propped his chin on my head, tucking me into the warmth of his neck, my cheek against his chest. His hold tightened around me.

Lowly, delicately, he whispered:

"..._I_ am."

* * *

Hushed tones.

Fleeting, meaningful glances.

The subtlest of gestures filled with implicit messages.

I had never been stealthy, my only experience being my failed attempt to sneak out of the house when I was six, only to be caught halfway down the stairs. I did not know how to appear normal despite being aware of something far from normal beneath the surface, but that was exactly how Sasuke wanted me to behave for the rest of the week—so as to not arise suspicion from my personal devil and risk angering him further.

Thus, for the days following the launch of our hunt for the Rogue, this time with the help of a mastermind, we conversed in the briefest meeting of eyes, whispered words and unobserved (or so we hoped) passing of written communication. We got rid of the leftover traces—turning away before stares stretched too long, shredding the notes for disposal or burying them where nobody could find—every precaution we could think of performed to be on the safe side, because we never knew just when the Rogue was watching.

Whether he knew not or was completely conscious of our covert doings, I couldn't tell. The Rogue seemed not at all mistrustful of me when we spoke online that night, conversing as though we were good old buddies, as though he wasn't leading up to the ultimate question he came to ask of me: whom he should slaughter for the night.

But when he posed the ill-fated query, I couldn't bring myself to answer him, to reply with a name of who then would be bound to their demise. Breaking my word to Sasuke, unable to prompt myself to sacrifice another person for my sake, I had opposed the question and logged off.

His terrorizing of me, now part of my routine, came every day and night in form of voice mails, telephone calls, online messages and tiny but foreboding notes stuck in my locker. I showed every one of these to Sasuke, who would first ask me how I was holding up, if I was okay; and then hand the conversation print-outs, voice mail recordings and threatening notes to Shikamaru. The slothful but gifted boy perused through each entity in detail, searching for something, anything, that would lead us somewhere, preferably a step closer to lifting the mask that concealed the Rogue's identity.

Given that the Rogue admitted to seeing me in school, Sasuke had made me list everyone I knew who went to the Hidden Leaves Academy. My hand was aching by the time I had finished enumerating names of all grades and nationalities. I had thought that being known, being talkative and friendly was advantageous, and, up until then, it had proved to be. Now, however, the large degree of people I was acquainted with made our job more difficult, the number we were attempting to narrow down even larger. Although with half the list discarded, for it was safe to assume that the Rogue was male, we were left with dozens of students, all seemingly without motive and without reason to want to have me killed.

I verbalized this to Sasuke, though he no more than dismissed my point and turned down the suggestion to take out the unlikely ones, like the frail whiz-tech who would never hurt a fly or the shy, wallpaper of a boy who never said a word. I couldn't imagine them ever plotting murder, but as Sasuke pointed out: that was something I could never be certain of. A part of me knew he was right. There was no telling of people's true intentions—and the sickest serial killers sported conventional camouflages, with shifting skins of a chameleon, blending as another face in the crowd.

"Sasuke told me about the pictures," Shikamaru said to me the following morning, when I had snuck out English to make a trip to the washroom, deliberately taking the longer route in order to happen to where the guys were: out in the gravel grounds. Shikamaru had broken way from the group and we stood behind the jutting wing of the Art rooms, concealed by its cast shadow. Out in the far field, Sasuke stared at our direction, before turning away judiciously before anyone else took notice.

"The ones of you;" Shikamaru's voice drew my attention back to him. "Do you still have them?"

"No," I replied. "I threw them away."

"What? Why would you—" He paused, and groaned exasperatedly. "Never mind. Do remember what kind of snapshots they were?"

"What do you mean? They were just like any other photographs."

"What kind?" He repeated, "Plate? Polaroid? If it had the yellow dates in the bottom corner, then it would have been taken by an older camera."

"No dates," I told him. "And not a Polaroid either. They were regular pictures, on printing paper. Like one of those one-hour developing stores—but I doubt he'd let other people see them. It's probably house-printed."

He concluded, "So it's digital."

"And that means...?"

"It means," Shikamaru explained, "that another copy, or possibly multiple copies, of those images still exist."

I pondered on that for the rest of the day, wondering where those replicas could be. The Rogue must have kept them, along with the snapshots he'd taken of his victims. It occurred to me then that I was just another addition to that anthology, my picture only a portion of his blood-splattered collage. If I didn't do something now, anything to stop the Rogue, eventually I would end up just like them.

Just another mug in his collection of lifeless, bloodied faces.

* * *

**Rogue: What are you doing Sakura?**

**lilpinkchiq: What do you mean? I'm talking to you.**

**Rogue: But that's not all, is it?**

**lilpinkchiq: What?**

**Rogue: You're... calm.**

**lilpinkchiq: And?**

**Rogue: And you used to tremble every time we talk. You constantly avoided our conversations, and you always resisted. Now, all of a sudden, you're compliant?**

**Rogue: What are you up to, Sakura?**

* * *

The following afternoon, I found myself hauled into seclusion in a quiet, echoing passage that branched off from the main hallway and coiled around the back of the Carpentry and Metalwork classrooms. Down the corridor, where the path closed in a dead-end, creating a small cul-de-sac inhabited by garbage cans and large, blue bins, Shikamaru stood, already waiting.

Sasuke dove straight to the point. "At work last night, we snuck around and found this report of an abandoned vehicle just a couple hours after Ino's accident. It was in a ditch by Highway 10. No plate number—looked like it was torn off."

"Fingerprints?" inquired Shikamaru.

"None," the Uchiha replied. "Dashboards were wiped, the clutch and wheel too; at least, according to what it said on the file."

"Make and colour?"

"Hummer H3, dark red paintjob, huge dent in the front bumper with navy blue scratches."

"Blue," the brunette echoed. "Ino's car was blue." His gaze glazed, as if remembering the incident all over again. Then, with a volume lower than that of a whisper, so quiet it slipped past Sasuke's notice and barely reached my ears, Shikamaru murmured, "...it matched her eyes at night."

At that moment, I realized with a shock that he was in love with my best friend.

* * *

**Rogue: I've been waiting. Your time is about to run out again.**

**Rogue: Remember the last time you didn't give me a kill?**

**Rogue: A little girl ended up dying. Would you like that to happen again?**

**lilpinkchiq: No.**

**Rogue: Then start naming.**

**lilpinkchiq: I can't think of anyone**

**Rogue: Liar.**

**lilpinkchiq: Really, I can't. If I had someone in mind, I'd tell you.**

**Rogue: ...What's going on Sakura?**

**lilpinkchiq: What? Nothing.**

**Rogue: You've been against this game since the beginning. Now you expect me to believe you'll voluntarily **_**tell **_**me if you had "someone in mind"?**

**Rogue: Sometimes I notice you disappear from my sight, for minutes or hours at a time. What do you do when I'm not looking? Where do you go? Who do you meet?**

**lilpinkchiq: Nothing, nowhere and no one. You're paranoid. **

Suddenly, a high-pitched trilling erupted from the telephone. The sound echoed in the room and from three other points in the house.

A part of me suspected it was the Rogue calling.

**Rogue: Oh, what a pleasant surprise.**

**Rogue: Someone's being a little disobedient.**

**lilpinkchiq: I haven't done anything.**

**Rogue: Actually, you aren't who I'm talking about**

I glanced at the flashing red dot of the receiver's base, designating the unanswered phone call. Reaching out, I seized the cordless handset instinctively, fastening my eyes on the cerulean glow of the screen and the pixels of words it displayed.

**01 MISSED CALL 17:33**

**Gaara S.**

**773-9513 **

**Rogue: I think I already know who's next on the roster**

**Rogue has logged off.**

* * *

_**Nara Shikamaru**_

| HTTP Error 403.2 - Read access forbidden |

His fingers soared over the keyboard, eyes affixed on the screen and the wheels of his brain spinning at work as he tried to find another route, stirring around the obstruction.

| HTTP Error 407.1 - Proxy Authentication Required |

_Damn it._

How many freaking decoy software did this guy have? Shikamaru tried again, searching for another way in. Everything he knew about the matter of info-tech was now applied as he wound his way through back sites, rummaging around for a flaw, a crack in the wall. Finally, he found what he was looking for. He worked his magic.

| HTTP Error 205.5 – Reset Password |

_Open sesame_, he thought, as he slipped inside the e-mail account by a mere press of his pinkie on the _Enter _key. Within a millisecond, the screen altered from the intricate, black backgrounds to a regular internet page.

_Inbox (0)_

_Drafts (0)_

_Sent (0)_

_Deleted (0)_

Just as he'd suspected.

Shikamaru probed around some more, looking into Spam, Notes, Contacts and Calendar, but to no avail he found nothing. None of these folders had anything stored in them. He checked out the Account Info, Profile details, Passwords and PINS, but columns supposedly filled on a methodical basis were blank. Convinced that the account was utterly empty, Shikamaru was just about to give up when something, a little piece of information, caught his eye.

Registered: 9 weeks ago

He frowned in thought. "Sasuke?" bellowed Shikamaru. No response. He head lolled sideways, glaring languidly at the closed bathroom door. "Sasuke!"

The rusted hinges creaked painfully at the speed with which the movable panel was swung and through the threshold stumbled out his cantankerous roommate—Sasuke, fully-dressed (thankfully), leaned against the frame with an equally cutting glare, white shaving cream still sparsely smeared across his lower jaw. _"What?"_

"When did the threats start?" Shikamaru inquired, disregarding the prodigy's temper. "When did Sakura start talking to the Rogue?"

Sasuke's brows creased together. "I don't exactly know. She broke down at Kin's memorial. That's when I knew something was wrong."

"So, what, about a month before?" That didn't fit the timeline.

Sasuke shook his head. "No, I think it went on before that. I began to notice after we called a truce, when we finally made up. Every time I saw her she was always jumpy."

"How long ago?"

"Couple of weeks," Sasuke answered, "She said he seemed harmless at first. Maybe eight or nine, late October."

Now that made more sense. As the Uchiha disappeared back into the washroom, he redirected his focus back on the screen of the computer. Registered nine weeks ago, it said, about the time the threats and messages had begun, according to the Uchiha. This account had been created just recently, crafted specifically, he supposed, for a sole reason: to communicate with Sakura. He doubted this address was used to perform any other function; the Rogue wouldn't be so stupid as to contact the girl through an e-mail he thoroughly utilized. There must be, however, another address he did make use of, and that was what Shikamaru needed to find.

And he had a hunch as to where it might be.

He manoeuvred again through the account, expertly clicking the right options in hopes that this would eventually lead him to what he was looking for. Accounts couldn't be created without an already existing address, and websites inquire for this information so as to send activation codes or clarifications if complications should arise. This instance would be no exception and a couple of clicks later, Shikamaru's theory was proven correct.

Under the Linked IDs section, he effortlessly uncovered his target.

**Alternate e-mail address**

He took this e-mail and, after signing out of the current one, performed the same magic. After a little back site route, a few activation codes and password reset links, he was in.

He moved the mouse circumspectly over each folder, eyes searching. Similar to the previous account, this one hadn't much in it. There were a few junk mails in the spam folder; the Inbox was empty, and so was Trash and Sent_, _but there was something about its false emptiness that told him the address was used, though very thoroughly deleted.

But even this guy, no matter how highly Sakura spoke of him, made silly mistakes.

Drafts (1)

The pointer hovered for a moment as Shikamaru silently wished to have unearthed something significant, before ultimately pressing his index finger down. The small, black device emitted a soft click as the screen modified into another window. He selected the message, now without hesitation, an excited sensation filling the nerves of his usually groggy body. The page took a second longer to load, but soon enough the lengthy, strangely colourful document materialized on the screen for his and everyone's eyes to see.

A brow raised in confusion.

_Tayuya M. — 441-9682 — S4; CS; Oto._

_Jirobo L. — 452-3352 — S4; CS; Oto._

_Kidomaru O. — 463-7472 — S4; CS; Oto._

_Sakon U. — 496-8754 — S4; CS; Oto._

_Ukon U. — 496-8754 — S4; CS; Oto._

_Kayuga K. — 401-0028 — CS; Oto._

_Yakushi K. — 452-9688 — KGH; Kon. ; Oto._

What the hell is this?

* * *

_Memo: Finally coming up for a breather from a... (not kidding) __**12-hour study session**__ for Mid-Terms. Started at 10am and it's now 9:55pm. My brain is bleeding. I figured it out. University is just hell with textbooks. -_-"_

_So, um, um... a review for still updating despite super-hectic-college-life?  
Leave a comment as a prize for a good kid who's done studying for exams? =D  
__**Read, Review and Thank you!**_

_Sincerely,  
Keelah (or what is left of her.)_

* * *

_**Awesome Fanarts by equally Awesome People**__:_

_keelahthewriter. deviantart. com/ favourites/ 46144697_

_A million hugs to Freezing Rose, Tomatoxcherrylover & xYama-chanx!_

_Anyone else an artist? I'd love to see your fanart! __**Show me your favourite scenes**__! Actually, a lot of people have been drawing scary stuff...that's always fun to see. But... __can anyone make a fanart of your favourite SasuSaku moment in IM__? X) Because we all want to have something to squeal at?_


	51. The Death Game: Modified

**NOTE: Yes, yes, I'm alive. For those of you who are asking...**

***Chapter 51: Drip, Drop* will be UPLOADED on August 24, 2012 (FRIDAY), Pacific Time.**

**I'm trying to get the last chapters finished soon!**

* * *

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

He inspected the sodden words trickling into indiscernible streaks.

"Do you notice something?"

"It's still wet?"

"No." He glided a finger across the glass, smearing the thick, cherry substance in the process. "It's written from the inside."

* * *

_**Chapter FIFTY  
**__**The Death Game: Modified**_

The phone rang again for the second time that evening, the shrill sound rebounding between the wooden partitions of each room. With eyes warily attached to the gleaming monitor, worried that the Rogue would reappear at any moment, I grabbed the receiver and placed it against my ear.

"Don't react. Don't say my name."

Sasuke's commanding voice boomed at my eardrums before I could utter the word _Hello. _I bit my lower lip, preventing myself from nearly doing that very act, the exclamation of his name ready at the tip of my tongue. "Is he watching?" he muttered lowly, taking preventative measures in case the Rogue happened to be listening as well.

Quick orbs of jade flicked at the computer screen, zeroing in on the Contact List.

_Rogue (Offline)_

I waited a few more beats, certifying that the Rogue had indeed gone for tonight, that our game was over at least for the rest of this evening, and exhaled noisily when the miniscule round particle beside the Rogue's screen name remained just as it was, a neutral white dot indicating disconnection. I only hoped that it denoted his absence too.

"No," I murmured, matching his volume, "not anymore."

"Are you sure?"

Mechanically, my eyes strayed away from the computer to gaze out the adjacent windowpane. Through the glass and past my room's reflection and my own, I scrutinize the vague, moonlit shapes of the neighbouring houses and the span of the afternoon's multicoloured skies, already darkening to black at a quarter to five. I wondered if, concealed in the grey shadows of sunset, there was a pair of eyes staring back at me without my knowing, if my eyes grazed their presence but failed to be aware of it, failed to distinguish the lurking figures of the night from customary trees and houses and wandering animals.

"I'm never sure about anything anymore," I told Sasuke.

"Can you leave the house?"

"Why?"

"Shikamaru's dug up something from the e-mail."

"What is it?"

"We don't know," Sasuke sighed, puzzlement and frustration adding an edge to his tone. "Just meet us. I don't want to talk about this over the phone."

"Where?"

"There's a small library on the first floor of the community center, beside Konoha Secondary. It's less than a block from your house. We're already here."

"Okay. I'll see you in a few."

"Sakura?"

I halted, about to tear away the handset from the side of my head. "Yeah?"

"Try and leave the house without being noticed."

I didn't even know if he was still here or otherwise, whether or not I was under his watch even now. He had logged off so abruptly this afternoon, as though he had some other matter to attend to despite that I hadn't given him what he'd been asking for: tonight's kill. All the same, the Rogue saw every move I made and heard every word I spoke even when I'd been certain of his nonattendance—thus the thought of creeping out of the house without his notice seemed impossible to me, not to mention utterly terrifying.

"Do you want me to come by?" Sasuke asked, sensing through my doubts.

"No," I blurted, appalled that I silently yearned for exactly what he was suggesting. "No need. I can walk by myself."

"I don't mind, Sakura," he said, deciphering the untruth of my sentences as easily as seeing through thin, fine, colourless plastic. Sometimes it was scary how much Sasuke knew me, so much that he could work out my lies like a kindergarten-level story book; read my mind by merely locking his eyes with mine, like he could perceive a thousand thoughts from those viridian waters; or identify emotions by the sheer sound of my voice.

"No," I insisted, "I can... I'll go by myself. It's fine." Before Sasuke offered me a chance to reconsider, before I chickened out and gave in to the urge of begging him to pick me up, I hung up, perching the phone back on its base.

I shut down the computer and drew the curtains closed. Throwing on a sweatshirt and another jacket over top of it, I made my way down the stairs and crept out the back door, the screen shutting with a muted thud. Through the yard I tip toed with eyes darting at every moving shadow, though as far as I could tell the patio was empty, devoid of any other presence but my own.

Comforted, I set off into the dark and silent night.

* * *

Brightly lit and in contrast with the blue-black heavens that were outside, the spacious plaza burned with warmth and radiance, the place smothered by the familiar quality of dusty shelves and leather-bound books. Stiffly-dressed office workers relaxed in worn, homely single couches while procrastinating students busied themselves over old texts and opened hardbacks, circled by loose leaf papers of scribbled notes and pencil boxes.

Through this quiet commotion, on the far side of the Library and past the overwhelming rows of Genealogy materials, a semicircle of rooms, only large enough to capacitate two individuals, filled the entire east wall, the queue an alternating band of doors and quadrangular windows. Each sheet of glass looked into a small space with a round birch desk and a pair of plastic chairs, occasionally with a black, square machine installed for audio book listening. In the second to the last room I spotted the ever-recognizable, jet black porcupine that was the back of Sasuke's head and his companion's brunette mop of hair morphed into a pineapple.

Both of them jumped as I opened and closed the door, their alert senses evidently heightened.

Sasuke's eyes searched my face and the length of body, missing not an inch as he inspected for damage, I supposed. I offered a smile, communicating through the link of our gazes, and saw the contorted lines of his countenance smoothen out a little.

"Take a look at this," Shikamaru started, cutting through the exchange. He motioned towards the printed document laid on the tabletop waiting to be read. "I almost missed it. This was in an alternative e-mail, and the only one there. He might have forgotten to delete it. Draft folders don't usually show if there's anything stored in them, unless they're marked unread somehow."

Approaching the desk, I rested a hand on the white sheet and slid it closer, and with automatic eyes I skimmed the article, never quite comprehending the alien names and foreign numerical digits randomly clumped together. The accompanying acronyms and abbreviations rang no bell in my head.

"What is it?" I asked.

Tersely, Sasuke responded, "We don't know."

"These," Shikamaru pointed out, a finger positioned by the column of six-digit numerals, "are obviously phone numbers."

"And that?" I gestured to the last column, the most illogical of them all. "What does S4 mean? C.S.? What's Oto?"

"I'm guessing it's got something to do with their affiliation and location—where they were originally recruited. Oto is short of Otogakure. I don't expect you to be familiar with it, but it's a rundown city in the outskirts of Sound." Shikamaru went on, "S4, Sound Four at length, is an elite team of criminals rumoured to be working for Orochimaru." My ears perked up, eyes widening at the mention of the twisted madman. "Considering the police barely have any data on them, for the Rogue to have contact would them... it means they're affiliated."

I swallowed every fact of the paragraph, almost too much for me to understand. "And C.S.? What is that?"

Shikamaru's eyes flicked to Sasuke for one brief moment. "Sasuke can tell you."

I shifted my gaze to the raven-haired boy who shifted uncomfortably in the corner. He looked down, purposely avoiding eye contact. "The Cursed Seal is a band of refugees and felons who's made an agreement with Orochimaru, dubbed The Great Snake. He offered contracts: service in exchange for protection, allegiance for limitless power. It didn't always have a nice, happy ending though."

Bizarrely, Sasuke began kneed a specific point below his neck, as though a dull pain all of a sudden attacked the juncture along his collar just above his left shoulder. The massaging action was obviously unconscious, his eyes trance-like as two, onyx orbs stared at nothing in particular, wholly immersed in his mental reverie. A frown fell on my face as I watched his eyebrows furrow in pain and irritation.

I reached out a hand, aiming for the tender spot. "Sasuke, are you—?"

He tore his hand from his neck, and for one fleeting second I spied a dark blemish just above the blade of his shoulder, a much organized mark containing three circling commas encompassed by a surrounding disk of tiny black embers. It was gone the very next moment, and with startling speed fingers seized my wrist, wrapping around my skin in a vicelike grip.

I looked up to find his eyes boring into mine, but something about the glaze in his eyes said he wasn't really seeing me, as though beneath his purple-specked obsidian iris was not a film of reality, but of some other scene—in another time and place. He stared at me, catching his breath as though he'd recently run across the village and back without a single rest stop, while I stared back, blinking.

Meanwhile, his fingers became an even stronger set of five unyielding coils, tightening and tightening until...

Behind us, the scraping of plastic on rough carpet emanated, and before I knew it Shikamaru had planted himself between us like a referee, wrapping a firm, constraining grasp around Sasuke's wrist. "Sasuke," Shikamaru barked, earning no response from the Uchiha, who was far gone. "Let go."

Sasuke didn't let go.

"_Let go_," Shikamaru repeated, but to no avail. He sighed, frustrated, bothered. "Fine. You end up hurting her, it's not my problem."

That did it. Sasuke dropped my arm as though it was scorching metal as his eyes roamed the room, as if taking in the situation for the first time, before finally letting the bottomless pools land upon me. He looked frazzled, confused, even more than I presently was. "Sakura, I—" he struggled, aggravated. "I didn't mean..."

"It's fine," I said quickly, recovering.

He narrowed his eyes before dropping his gaze to my arm, where the clear, cherry marks of his fingers still graced my flesh. I shifted, hiding the fading remnants of his clutch, though it was too late; he'd already seen it, and a look of guilt had already flooded into his visage. "I'll wait outside," he muttered, already out the door before I could verbalize an opposition.

I blinked again. "What just happened?"

"He ever tell you about how he ran with some pretty dangerous gangs back then?"

"...yes?"

"The C.S. was one of them. He was one of these guys called the Cursed." Oh. "And don't take his outburst too personally. Sasuke just lost it," Shikamaru shrugged, as though the normal occurrence didn't bother him. "Happens to all of us."

"But not Sasuke," I told him, "I mean, not recently."

"He's different around you."

I was about to ask what he meant by that when he continued, "So about the roster, any of these names look familiar?" I shook my head. Maybe the Rogue had other business outside our game, things that didn't concern me at all. The names were meaningless to me—I didn't know any of these people, and I didn't see their connection to the circumstance at hand. The Rogue, I thought then, was my only enemy.

I'd scanned and rescanned the roll, trying to embed into my memory the names and numbers in case any of them struck a chord, though the attempt was without success with my thoughts somewhat distracted by the previous happening with Sasuke. I was not the only one who noticed.

The genius, sharp as ever, sighed in surrender. "Okay, you're gone. We're done here."

"That's it?"

He responded, "I'll try and Google each name, see if that gives us anything. Right now though, this guy looks pretty undetectable to me." He stood straight, pushing his body heavily off the table, an action that appeared to take him all of his strength to do. Low-lidded and dreary, he turned to me and drawled, "I'll see you tomorrow, maybe."

"Shikamaru? Thanks."

He nodded, and it looked as though he'd let the weight of his head drop before bringing it back up with a great deal of might. In the same moment, a question occurred to me.

"Hey," I said, "how's Ino?"

His eyes perked at the mention of her name. "Didn't you visit her yesterday?"

"I did," I affirmed, eyes softening, "But I know you went more recently. Just today." Unable to drop by after school, I'd called to check in with her parents, who told me all about the great help Shikamaru had been for the past few days, visiting every morning and even picking up necessary groceries. "How was she?"

"As well as someone in a coma can be, I guess," he deadpanned. "Her brain's barely functioning. The doctors said she could wake up any day, or she could wake up in a couple years. They're damn useless, if you ask me."

A heavy sensation weighed on my lungs, chest and shoulders, crushing me. They didn't know how long the coma would last; she could wake up in the next minute or in the next five years; but four days already felt torturously endless—especially so for her family.

Jaded, I turned to leave when Shikamaru suddenly called, "Sakura."

I halted, freezing in my tracks with a palm just about to twist the silver knob. "Yeah?"

"You might want to talk to Sasuke. He's probably shitting himself for hurting you."

* * *

We trod softly on tall, unkempt grasses that trailed round a long strip of back yards, behind the wood-panel fencing, where the last of the neatly scythed lawn met the beginning peripheries of the woodlands the city was renowned for. It felt unlawful in some way, lurking at the back of houses like this, hidden in the impenetrable shade provided by tall evergreens and low-lying shrubs, our presence unbeknownst to the people inside the abodes. Sasuke insisted we avoid the main street, stating that the Rogue could sight us from afar if he wasn't already at our heels, and as a result, at present we stole through the darkness like thieves in the night.

In the corner of my eye, I caught Sasuke sneaking glances at my wrist—in the darkness, he couldn't possibly see anything more than shadows on my skin, but that never seemed to hinder him from looking anyway. It didn't stop the frustration from flickering across his face.

"I'm fine, you know," I told him as quietly as possible. "It's not like my bones will break from one grip."

He said nothing for a long moment.

Then, nearly lost in the deafening stillness of the evening, I heard, "But you could've."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're wrist could've been broken. I could easily do that."

"A little cocky, aren't you?"

He halted, glaring at me, though against the dim glow of moonlight I realized the anger was not meant for me, but for himself. "This isn't funny. I could've hurt you."

"So? You didn't." He had turned and stomped away, my words falling on stubborn and deaf ears. "Why is this such a big deal?" I asked him, the question nagging me since we left the public library.

For the past several weeks, every hold, every gesture of protection, every consoling word in my ear left a strange, indefinable flicker in my stomach—I felt flattered and cared for and safe and... and even _loved_ (not that I expected I was loved. It just felt that way, sometimes, and it was feeling I'd could never quite forget). But there was confusion there as well, my mind often struggling to reconcile the Sasuke who had nearly killed another boy as a child and had so viciously hated me only weeks before, versus the Sasuke whose arms have recently made a habit of winding around me, creating an ever faithful fortress. They were two paradoxes too contradicting to exist within the same person.

"You already shoved me to the ground before and practically sat on my lungs, remember?" I know not if it was an illusion of my imagination, but Sasuke seemed to flinch in the dark. "If Shikamaru and them hadn't been there, I doubt I'd have a face right now."

"That's different," Sasuke growled. He had one hand on the nape of his neck again, nails digging into the skin just above his left shoulder blade. "I would never do that again."

I inhaled, daring to pose the question. "How is it different?" I asked. "What changed?"

He kept on walking before me, finding his way through the darkness lit only by the remnants of streetlights on the other side of the street, but I caught the fleeting shock that froze him for an instant, the sudden stiffness that seemed to wrap about him.

He never answered.

As my eyes wandered from the rigid muscles of his back towards where his neck was taut with struggle, I saw his fingers clench around the back of his neck. His nails, though cut short, dug deep into black ink tattooed beneath his skin. Dark, thick liquid pooled around his fingernails.

"Stop that," I barked at him, louder than I intended. The command echoed down the alley we were in, surprising both him and myself. Sasuke snapped his eyes at my direction, shooting a look of warning and question. "You'll peel your skin off," I told him. The thought of him hurting himself didn't settle well in my stomach, for some reason.

He scoffed but lowered his hand nonetheless. "I wish I would," Sasuke hissed.

Silence long followed as I registered the weight and meaning of those four words. Ahead of us, another two blocks lay ahead. There was something about walking in the dark like this, lost in the thick shadows of the alleyway—in another lens, in another night, perhaps the same circumstances would be terrifying. But there was something about the silence, something about the way it was filled only by his breathing and mine, something about the feel of his arms occasionally brushing against my shoulders. It made me feel safe, concealed—most of all, the dark and silence made me feel comforted enough to open my mouth without thorough discretion.

"What happened?" I asked before I knew it. Unsurprisingly, Sasuke gave no answer. "With... with the Cursed Seal?" I clarified, like he wouldn't know the name of the gang he was once affiliated with. More silence. "Sasuke?"

"Sakura," he snapped. "I'm not talking about this."

"Why not?"

He looked around, eyes darting through the thick cloak of black around us. "You need to shut up, Sakura."

"I'm whispering, aren't I?"

"I'm not talking about this," he repeated, walking faster ahead of me.

About a dozen or so meters ahead of us, the faint light of my backyard loomed closer. Every hurried of Sasuke's lessened the time I had with him here. Without thinking, because my brain seemed to be absent tonight, I shuffled past Sasuke and planted myself before him.

He halted in his tracks. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What are you so afraid of?"

Sasuke shot a glance at our surroundings. "I don't know—getting killed?"

"No, I mean by talking to me."

He fixed a hard gaze on my eyes. "I am not afraid of you."

"But you're afraid of letting me in."

That did it. Sasuke, always the undecipherable iceberg whose exposed surface barely let on what lurked beneath, froze and faltered before me. He recomposed himself within half a second, but momentum from what I'd already seen drove me forward.

"I trust you, don't I?" I continued, not entirely conscious of the words slipping out of me. "Why is that not reciprocated?"

A frustrated sigh escaped the lips of my companion. "You trust me?" he posed.

And for a moment, I considered this, considered all the times he asked me this, all the times I've already more or less laid my life in his hands and had faith in the fact that he would know what to do. My sanity, my mind, would be shattered fragments right now if he hadn't risked picking up every bloodied shard.

Yes, I trusted him. "Entirely."

"Then trust me when I say I want to get you home first," Sasuke demanded brusquely, taking one step to close the distance between us and grabbing me by the arm. In the following moment, we were shuffling through the dark, towards my backyard door. "I don't like being out in the open like this."

Meters ahead, the glow of my back porch became clearer, drawing nearer and nearer as we crept along. In the same way I had headed out of the house a little earlier that evening, we skulked up the veranda, but before we could slip in through the back door I tore my arm from Sasuke's grip and swirled, shoving my face right up to his.

"Okay. I trusted you." Every clipped word sent a curl of white breath at Sasuke's nose, the warm air stuck in the small space between his weary face and my determined countenance. I was not letting this go, simply because there was so much I didn't know about Sasuke, so much I wanted to know. "Your turn."

The veranda was small, the silver railing of its stairs on both sides preventing either of us from backing away. We were concealed in the dark by the porch's roof, but while this hid us from a third party's attention, the shadows were not enough to conceal our expressions from each other. He sighed again, the breath of frustration harshly hitting my upturned face.

"It wasn't exactly the happiest time of my life," Sasuke spat. "There's nothing to tell, Sakura. It was gang—I did stuff for them, sold stuff, stole stuff, helped... helped threaten some people, because I needed the security. I needed information."

"About?"

He looked at me, a decision flickering in his eyes. When he realized I would not drop the matter, he relented, "...I'm looking for my brother," (why is that in present tense?). "But the Cursed Seal never brought me closer to him. And they... they did things, some horrible things."

"Like what?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Do you remember the internet article we found before? About Orochimaru experimenting on people, embedding them into walls?"

I stared at him, eyes wide. "You couldn't have—?"

"No, no. I had no idea. But we... we recruited the subjects. I helped recruit them." Warily, he glanced at me, hesitation restraining his movements. "Sakura—I didn't know, I swear. Don't look at me like that. When I had even the slightest idea, I left."

I stared at him, stared at the four bleeding crescent moons at his shoulder. "Just like that? That easily?"

He shook his head, the strands of his hair brushing my eyes. Lowly, he muttered, "You don't leave a gang like that unscathed, Sakura."

A frown creased my forehead, my heart slowing suddenly from the ominous, tortured undertone of his voice. He wouldn't look at me. "What do you mean?" I asked him in a whisper, "what did they do?"

His eyes nearly drilled a hole into the wall beside my head. His body rigid all over, the warmth of his anger wrapping all around me.

"Sasuke—?"

"I tell you," he muttered, "and we never talk about this again, alright?"

"Okay," I whispered, and without a warning, Sasuke took one hand off the wall beside my head, hooked a finger under his shirt, and lifted. Before I knew what was happening, I was face-to-face with Sasuke's exposed chest and stomach, the dim light shedding shadows around the ridges and curves of muscle.

It was nothing I hadn't seen before, but it'd been a while, and seeing Sasuke shirtless in broad daylight in his own home is quite different from him flashing me in the dark and in the middle of the night.

"Um," I stuttered, heart pounding. "—Sasuke?"

"Look closer," he snapped, impatient.

I already had a hard time settling my panicked gaze, which grazed everything but the skin before me, so it was much harder trying to fix my eyes straight ahead. Bluish, moonlit skin were all that I perceived at first. I didn't know what I was supposed to be looking at, but I doubted Sasuke lifted his shirt here and there for no reason—he meant for me to see something.

My eyes wandered up and down, sensing nothing extraordinary until—right by his chest, light and shadow distorted into shapes that didn't follow what a... what a regular male chest would be shaped like (not that I had much experience in such images). There was a line much too straight to be biological across his left chest, running at about five inches, and deep enough to be marked by a shadow of its own.

And then, as my eyes adjusted to the dimness and caught more of the faint light coming off a distant porch lamp, suddenly, I saw them, these flaws I'd never realized when I came upon Sasuke that day in the group home.

My eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath through my lips.

Just below the deep cut, a shiny blotch of skin shone more than its surroundings, the patch uneven in texture and surface. A similar scar grazed near his right shoulder, and left rib, and just around the left side of his stomach, extending around his back...burnt marks. Patched, rough and scalded.

The cuts, as deep and long as the one on his chest, were spread all over his body. Some were short and abrupt, like a brief but full piercing of a blade deep into muscle and organ, while others were long and dragging, languidly shredding skin. Some were fine, others jagged and crooked, altogether creating a map of Sasuke's history that I no longer wanted to see.

"Sasuke!" I gasped, horrified.

Thoughtlessly, I brought a hand up and grazed a finger across his scars, tracing every shape, curve and line of the wounds that never quite healed right, the tortured skin rough and calloused under my touch. Subconsciously, I caught him shudder, but whether it was from horrid memories or my cold touch, I knew not.

"Their little goodbye gift left me in the hospital for eight months."

I blinked, incredulous, sickened, hurting just for him. "What?"

Suddenly, he was glaring at me. "What do you mean, _what_? You want me to give you every fucking detail?"

"No, I—I just—"

Roughly, he shoved his shirt back down, smacking my hand away. "Stop it," he snarled. "Wipe that look off your face."

I stared at him. "I don't know what you're—"

"If I'd known you'd agonize over this, I wouldn't have said anything. Stop it, I'm fine now."

I glance backed down at his now covered chest, but the ridges and lines of his scars still bore into the back of my eyes. Unable to help myself, I touched him again, palm pressed flat against his chest as if supposing, hoping, that touch alone could erase the disfigurements across his body. Sasuke's eyes bore into mine, fully alert and questioning, his chest harshly rising and falling beneath by hand.

A gulp ran down his throat and he opened his mouth, but instead of a barking, 'Get your hands off me,' Sasuke murmured a softer, "Sakura... what are you doing?"

I was aware of how close he was, how close we were, how my hand on his chest was practically stuck between the few inches that separated his body from mine. Whether he drew closer or I did, I did not know.

Now, however, was one of the few times I didn't care.

All I cared about, all I could think about, was the marks of pain and torture that mutilated Sasuke's skin. Because that was what the scars were from—systematic torture. I knew enough about biology, about the human body, to know that such disfigurements could not result from petty fights and scuffles.

"I wish I could erase it," I whispered to him.

A scoff reached my ears, low, angry and bitter. "Which _one,_ exactly?" Sasuke growled, though suddenly his breath caught, anger dissipating as he sharply inhaled and fought a shudder that racked through him when I ran my palm down his chest. I imagined the scars beneath my skin, willing them to disappear with every graze.

"All of it," I murmured.

Just as my palm was halfway down his torso, Sasuke's hand snapped to cover mine, halting it in place. Silence followed, though most could be attributed to the man in front of me, seemingly struggling to catch his breath at the moment. Though his face flickered with running emotions, they were too fleeting to catch and understand in the dark.

"You don't mean that," he muttered, shaking his head. His hand tightened around mine. "You don't mean that."

"Of course I do," I whispered back to him.

"All my life," he glared at me. "I've met people who say they care but never mean it. What the hell makes you any different?"

I raised my chin, held my head high. "I'm not one of them."

If it was possible for his gaze could harden any more, drill into my eyes any more intensely, then it did so. He pinned me between himself and the back door of the porch, forcing me, almost daring me to meet his eyes. I nearly buckled under the weight of his stare, and for someone else perhaps it might have worked, but Sasuke, I supposed, just met his match. I stared back at him hard, unyielding, meaning every word: _I am not one of them. I care._

"Really?" he breathed. "And why would you?"

I paused for a moment, thinking through the inquiry. Why? Why did I want so much to make him stop hurting?

"Because...because you're doing the same for me."

Something flickered in his eyes, something I did not expect. Hurt. It was gone the next millisecond. "So it's just gratitude?" he replied angrily.

But that was the problem, I thought. I didn't think it was _just_ gratitude, but anything else _this_ might be was terrifying even to think about. I evaded his eyes, my own landing on the marked skin between his neck and shoulders.

I moved my hand, while his own which covered mine never let go, to graze a fingertip across the three dots and jagged circle. To my surprise, the skin underneath the black ink was rough and—and raised, more so than the flesh around it. Like the burnt leftovers of tissue singed under hot iron.

My eyes snapped back to him in question, and there was weariness in his gaze. "The night I left, they branded me." He chuckled, a dry laugh of tired and resigned rage. "A tattoo wasn't permanent enough. They wanted me to remember."

My finger shook over the molten, rough circle of skin. I could barely even begin to imagine that night he spoke of, but even if I didn't want to, the image was suddenly there—Sasuke on his knees, arms held off in restraint, body bloodied and broken, a red-hot iron scalding into his flesh.

A thumb grazed beneath my eyelashes. "Why the hell are you crying?" he murmured, fingers lingering on my cheek.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I gasped, gripping his shoulder, my tough no longer feather-light, but firm and determined on the branded tattoo.

"I'd erase this," I muttered through gritted teeth, "if I could. _I wish I could_."

The statement echoed softly through the stillness and silence of the night, bouncing between us. Then, just as I thought he would never say anything, Sasuke's stoic facade slipped for one moment—and disappearing along with it, the rigidity of his muscles, the memory of hurt in his body, the anger in his voice. All of that easily escaped him as his eyes shut and the hand on his neck tightened over mine.

So quiet and subdued, he murmured: "If anyone could, Sakura, it'd be you."

* * *

I let out a breath, scared even to make the slightest sound that accompanied it. "What?"

He opened his eyes, impatience and annoyance evident in the black pools. "What, 'what'?"

"Sasuke—"

He dropped my hand, reaching around me to open the screen door of the porch. "If you're deaf," he retorted, pushing me inside the house, "then that's your problem."

Blindness welcomed us whole. As the screen slammed against the doorframe, the crash rang deafeningly within the glass walls of the room we were in, reverberating down the hall and fading into soundless echoes. At the corner of my right eye, a figure shifted.

"Sasuke?"

I felt a hand wrap gently yet swiftly around my left arm. "Right here," a voice murmured next to me, though the whispered reassurance failed to soothe an emerging qualm in my innards—the feather light touch above my elbow was on the opposite side from where I sensed movement. Whoever I'd seen, or whatever, was not Sasuke.

My heart jumped. "There's—"

"I know," he muttered below his even breath, which was so unlike my heavily accelerating mouthfuls of air. The light irritation in his voice is gone, and replacing it is a tone of order that left no room for argument. "Go upstairs." He gave me a light nudge in the direction of the hall. I did not waste a second thought. Without hesitation, I hastened down the unlit corridor, relying solely on memory to steer me around shelves, vases and other outlying furniture. Subsequent to weaving through the kitchen, I took two steps at a time up the stairs and headed directly to my room upon reaching the landing.

Dissimilar to the rest of the house, my room was the only area illuminated, what with my parents being away. It was the only place that pulsated with warmth and life, whilst everywhere else was dulled with long periods of desertion, thickly layered with dusts from the lack of attention.

Like a ghost, I tip-toed across the carpet as a strange feeling settled itself at the bottom of my stomach. The peace from our previous conversation was gone. In spite of the radiance with which my room glowed, there was a foreign shift in the atmosphere, an inharmonious rhythm that beat irregularly, unfamiliarly, as though something had disturbed the room's tranquility in my absence. Almost involuntarily, my eyes were lured to the chicly patterned curtains drawn over the windows, noticing their utter motionlessness, the fluid manner in which the textile draped from above, the misplaced hitch in between the two shades that suggested it was stirred without my knowing.

With a few strides, I stood facing the swathed windowpane, waiting, perhaps for my pulse to reduce speed, for a clatter to break the weighty silence, for something other than my hand to push the shutters back, to offer me a view of what awaited on the other side. My heart was a stampeding horde of stallions, hooves continuously knocking the ground in muted, hasty thuds. My fingers lingered merely inches away from the creamy cloth, though they were frozen in midair.

In the back of my mind, I wondered about Sasuke. My ears strained to listen for something other than the buzzing silence that filled the room and deafened my eardrums, that imaginary, high-pitched note that constantly seemed present whenever sound was not in attendance, blocking up my head until I could hear no more. Where was Sasuke?

My gaze wandering to the clock atop a shelf, I realized for the first time that it was still early. Eight o'clock. I could perceive the faint tick-tock emitting from hands of time, but beyond the walls of this chamber I caught nothing. Maybe Sasuke had already left. Maybe I was already alone.

Turning back to the window, to the curtains that covered it, I gripped the sheet and pushed it aside.

The curtains moved away to reveal a stained casement, blood-red paint oozing down the ledge from the thick, block letterings that tarnished the clear slate of glass. It took up the entire span of the pane from top to bottom, left to right, its vibrant tinge of red prominent against the blackness of the evening, sure to entrench the message into my memory, to incise the undercurrent of threat deeply into the tissues of my brain.

_**WHERE DID YOU GO, SAKURA?**_

I screamed, _"Sasuke!"_

Feet pounded up the stairs and across the floorboards before the door swung open with a slam. He appeared in the doorway, panting, striking features warped in alarm. "Are you okay?" _Oh. He's still here after all. _

I needed not to answer his question; the memo wasn't very hard to miss.

Automatically, his eyes drifted from me to the windowpane, and a lone spectacle of the bloody message explained all that needed to be said. He drew nearer, focused on the reflective film as he inspected the sodden words trickling into indiscernible streaks.

"Who was downstairs?" I inquired, eyes still affixed upon the glass.

"There was no one there," he replied, gaze still centered on the object of his attention. "Do you notice something?"

"It's still wet?" I glanced back at the window, "That he was _just_ here?"

"More like he was just _here._"

Raising a hand, he glided a finger across the glass, smearing the thick, cherry substance in the process.

"It's written from the inside."

Out of the blue, shrill chimes pierced the silence.

I jolted in surprise at the same time as Sasuke made his way to where the phone lay, ringing incessantly. Picking up the receiver, he frowned at the glowing sapphire display. "That's... strange."

"Is it my dad? Shikamaru? Or Ino's parents?" I demanded, unable to identify the look on the Uchiha's facade, the subtle raise in his brow and the furrowing of his temples. "Who's calling?"

Sasuke's head rose to look at me, puzzled black waters flooding my sight and being. "You are, Sakura."

"What?" I echoed, marching en route for where he was. Grabbing the handset from his grasp, I glimpsed at the Caller ID screen.

**H. SAKURA Calling**

**778-9686**

It was the number of my cellular phone, which I had lost a few nights ago.

The last time I found myself calling...well, me, was when Sasuke had had my phone in his possession. But Sasuke was here, with me, and I couldn't imagine anyone else who might have it. A stranger who'd found it, perhaps?

With a dreadful feeling building in my chest, I touched the affirmative, yellow button and brought the telephone to my ear. For a moment only breathing from both lines were heard, as neither one of us spoke. When the wordless communication stretched long enough, I gathered up what courage I had left, withdrawing strength from Sasuke's presence, and spoke into the hand-sized device. "Hello?"

"Did you think that I was no longer watching?" I froze at the sound of that familiar, leering voice. "Where have you been?"

"...nowhere," I croaked.

I heard his tongue click in disapproval. "Let me try this again," the Rogue said, "What did you do in the _library_?"

"I...I just..." I stammered, struggling to get the words out. "I signed out a—a book."

"Really?" He mused, disbelief coating every syllable. "What do you think you're doing, Sakura? Are you purposely _testing_ my patience?"

"No!" I exclaimed, "I'm not, I..."

"Then don't fucking _lie_ to me."

I flinched. He must have sensed the recoil, for he huffed with satisfaction from the other end of the line. "If you aren't going to tell me, Sakura," the voice continued, sensual and seemingly amiable. "Then the least you can do play with me tonight."

_Another round?_ I thought dreadfully. No, I actually thought he was done for tonight. How could I have been so naive as to think he would let me off that easily?

"But given that I already have my own kill in mind, and since I would hate to leave you out of the fun, I'm going to change it up a bit." An ill-omened tide of malice lay underneath his intonation, its low and lurking tendencies sending a fit of quivers down my spine.

"Instead of giving me a victim..." that crafty, sinister voice whispered: "You will tell me _how_ to kill them."

I froze.

"This would spice things up a bit, don't you think? A different concept. This time, your choice is not in who dies, but _how_ they will die." I shuddered. "You can think of the most painful of ways, Sakura. Or the slowest method. Does it excite you?"

"I'm not a monster like you," I spat out.

"See, I had a feeling you'd be uncooperative," he said conversationally, as though we were merely discussing weekend plans. "So what if I make it easier. I'll make you chose from a selection. A, B, or C. Are you ready?"

My temple throbbed. I shook my head, my breath raspy. "No."

"A—death via suffocation;" he began, the laughter in his tone of voice denoting that he was enjoying this. "B—slice his throat with a fine, sharp blade? Or C—a slow, torturous end by means of freezing? Many restaurants have storage freezers that are so accessible... can you imagine it, Sakura? Being locked in a room with a temperature thirty below, so cold that you stop shivering?"

I shut my eyes to prevent his vivid description from formulating a picture in my head, but imagination was far too rapid—in a bat of an eyelid, the image materialized in my head, as clearly as it would have before my eyes were they unclosed.

Just as quickly, the Rogue's graphic words that I was trying so desperately to ignore were cut off as Sasuke gently extracted the phone from my clutching, trembling grip.

"Let go, Sakura," he murmured gently, tenderly prying my hand away, finger by finger. When I finally liberated the phone, Sasuke raised the throttled apparatus to his ear and roared into the speaker with an unassailable voice:

"_Who the hell is this?"_

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

A heavy, exaggerated sigh came from the other end of the line.

"Fuck off, Uchiha."

That voice—it was muffled, indistinct, but something about it... instantly, Sasuke was brought back to the night of the beating. He remembered the guy holding him back, the one who'd finished the attack by ultimately raining fists and kicks at him until he could no longer breathe. He remembered that voice. It was the same guy.

"What do you want from her?" he demanded furiously.

"This is _our_ game," the bastard explained, calm and indifferent. It pissed him off already. "And it doesn't concern you."

"The hell it doesn't," he snapped. Rage rose speedily in his nerves, rushing through his veins like an addictive drug he'd simply love to unleash. _Damn it, _he thought, clenching and unclenching his fist. _Keep a cap on it, Sasuke. _"I swear," he snarled, "I'll find out who you are. And when I do, I'll—"

"Give the phone back to Sakura," the monotonic voice ordered, paying no attention to the boy's vow. "We weren't finished."

Sasuke scowled, glimpsing at Sakura's direction. She had turned away with her back to him, needing a moment to recompose, to clear her mind, yet he could still observe her hushed, repressed trembling. Nearly inaudible were her secret, silent sobs that she tried to hide from him, though he knew her too well.

"I'm not letting you talk to her again."

"Look," the Rogue began, noticeably irritated. Sasuke smirked; _good_, at least he was getting to him. "I don't know what the hell you're doing in her house, but I'm guessing the whole time she'd disappeared from my sight, she was with you. If you don't give her the goddamn phone, Uchiha, I'll personally make sure she gets punished for that blunder."

Sasuke stiffened. "You don't touch a hair on her head."

"That's up to _you_."

He huffed, infuriated at defeat. "Sakura," he called quite harshly. The moment she turned around however, her amazing, jade eyes now world-weary coming into view, dulled by rings of shadows on the skin beneath them, he backtracked. With a softer voice, he tried again, pressing the phone into her hands. "Talk to him."

She jerked away. "Do you know what he's asking of me?" Sakura whispered, her eyes begging his. "He's asking me to—"

"Just do what he says," he murmured into her hair, jamming his thumb on the speakerphone button of the mechanism.

Her eyes widened. "Sasuke—"

"We went over this already," he told her lowly, "Just do it, Sakura."

She exhaled, her breath quivering, as if bracing herself for what was about to follow.

"So what will it be, Sakura?"

A beat of silence, before she croaked, "Option B,"

"You are no fun, Sakura. Figures you'd pick the fastest, least painful road," the voice snickered. "Well then," he exclaimed energetically, with a bounce in this intonation at the thrill of the evening's new prey. "I'll be right back."

The phone clicked.

As gently as the first time, Sasuke took the receiver from her clammy hands before it slipped to the ground. They stood within a foot of each other, a heavy silence hovering in the atmosphere between them. She stared blankly at the carpet by her feet whereas he, on the other hand, stared intently at _her_.

"Sakura?"

Sasuke studied the slight movements of her eyelashes, the twitching of her fingers, the subtle motions of her chest as she breathed in and out. He had a feeling she would collapse any moment, therefore he waited in the wings, just in case, remaining close.

Although instead of caving in, Sakura straightened and unexpectedly darted for the door. He blinked for a moment in confusion before running after her, his fingers barely grabbing hold of her waist as he caught the girl halfway out the threshold.

"Whoa," Sasuke shouted as he hauled her back into the room—or rather, tried to; he would have been successful if she hadn't thrown a spasm and elbowed him (instinctively or deliberately) in the ribs. He grunted, though his hold on her never loosened. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Where do you _think_ I'm going?" Sakura cried, her voice breaking as she thrashed about in his arms. "I have to _do_ something!"

"Of course," he countered, "Go do something about that tomorrow."

She sent him a look of incredulity. "What? There isn't time. The Rogue—he'll do it tonight. I have to go now!"

"It's freezing outside," he reasoned pathetically.

She bristled, about to lose it any second now. "Sasuke, I don't _care_. What the hell is wrong with you? I have to do _something_—!"

"Like _what_?" he snapped, annoyed now. "You gonna come right up to the Rogue and punch him in the face? You don't even know where he is, or who he's out to kill."

"You can't expect me to just _sit_ here and _wait_!"

"_Sakura_," Suddenly, he was livid, and suddenly, he was shouting. This girl was irritating the hell out of him and she didn't even need to try. He fastened a firm but gentle clasp on both her arms, drawing her even closer when she managed to slip an inch away from his grasp. "Could you for _once_ stop thinking about others and start taking care of yourself? 'Cause I'm so freaking tired of doing that for you!"

_It wasn't safe out there. Couldn't she get that through her thick skull?_

"I never _asked_ you to take care of me!"

"Damn it, Sakura—"

_What if something happened to you?_

"What if you _do_ run into the Rogue, then what?"

"I'll stop him!"

_And what if he hurts you?_

_What if he kills you?_

"—what if I lost you?"

_What if— _Wait.

Sakura stared at him, her eyes wide like two viridian spheres glimmering with wonder and confusion.

_Oh fuck._

_Shit, shit, shit._

_I wasn't supposed to say that._

* * *

_Memo: As an apology for the wait, I actually added 8 pages of SasuSaku fluff in this chapter. This update was supposed to be shorter, but I added scenes at the last minute. lol __For those who bother to review (& the 700+ of you who don't. lol) thank you SO much for the support & patience! Please feel free to leave a review, because every little feedback means a lot =)_

_I added a little Fun Fact below, just for fun. I think I'll add more with every update. =)_

_Gratefully,  
__Keelah_

_**10. Chapters. Left!**_

_Fun Fact!__ DID YOU KNOW that Instant Message was originally a high-school fic? Uhuh—you read that right._

_I wanted to make it unique by adding suspense, but the psycho-killer plot was so minor that the characters were too busy with their high-school boy-dramas to worry about the Rogue._

_When I wrote this at age 12, the story opened with an alarm clock being smashed to pieces & our heroine waking up to the start of a new school year! (I was very original)._

_Sasuke was in a "band" with the "bad boys" & he met Sakura at Starbucks (I used to think that's where all the high school kids hung out), and sang Jesse McCartney songs to her, particularly "What's Your Name?" right when they met (I dare you. Youtube it, imagine Sasuke and see if you'd barf. lol). Also included was practically every song in his Beautiful Soul album. Yeah, I was going through my Jesse McCartney-SClub7-Hilary Duff-pop phase._

_...Now aren't you glad that virus came along? LOL How different would IM be if I wasn't forced to rewrite IM? Haha, if I had those first drafts, I'd post them up just so we could all laugh at them together. XD_


	52. Drip Drop

**Next Update: May 3, 2013 (Friday)**

YES, I'm keeping my promise, IM WILL be finished.  
Just doing MAJOR revisions on the ending, because the original draft didn't have ANY action, or not even one scene of fluff. So unless you want Sakura to just hop on a plane and leave without so much as a hug, let me revise the ending a little. Or a LOT. lol

Meanwhile, I'm updating the next chapter NEXT WEEK (May 3). Here's a sneak peek!

**Chapter 52 Sneak Peek: "Breakups and Breakdowns"**

_"How can you just stand there? Doesn't it bother you? Why am I the only one breaking apart!"_

_"If I let myself lose it, Sakura, then how," he asked evenly, smoothly, "am I supposed to hold you together?"_

* * *

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

_I held on to the communicative device like it was my very own lifeline._

"_Stay on the phone with me," was my murmured prayer._

"_I will," was his whispered promise._

* * *

_**Chapter FIFTY-ONE  
**__**Drip, Drop**_

"_What if I lost you!"_

I stilled in his arms as the words echoed in my skull, halting my attempts to bolt out the door. Though I'd ceased struggling, however, his hold remained firm and tight, as though he expected I'd attempt to flee once he let loose.

Silence settled between us.

I heard every sharp puff of his lungs as he breathed in and out, and I was almost certain he could feel every gallop of the running horses that stormed my heart, especially with how close he still held me, especially with my chest pressed tightly against his ribs. Throughout the time we've known each other, Sasuke and I have had many of those moments where we did nothing but shut up and stare. This instant was no different, yet for some reason it seemed too terrifying a silence to break. It was as if any careless word or movement might push us over a cliff we might not be ready for.

_What_

Though the words still rang in my ears, they wouldn't settle in any coherent manner, and it seemed Sasuke, too, struggled with understanding them.

_If_

Or perhaps we already knew what those five words meant, just too terrified to acknowledge what they implied.

_I_

Still as rocks, he stared at me as I him, both daring each other to make a move that just might change whatever lay in the space between us, yet neither one brave enough to take the risk.

_Lost_

He was so close, his face hovering just inches, centimetres, above mine.

_You?_

And then, he was no longer staring at me. Sasuke's gaze drifted lower and fixed somewhere below my nose. Our breaths mingled in the close, warm air separating his face from mine.

"_Sakura..."_

I wanted to move away, not in any discomfort but in an attempt to ease the intensity Sasuke emitted, though I feared even the smallest movement would ultimately close the gap between us.

"_Sasuke...?"_

There was something different in his gaze, something deeper, unsettling, like there was an unknown matter lurking beneath those obsidian orbs that he wanted to keep submerged. His eyes held something back that fought to surface. I feared yet wanted to know what it might be.

Suddenly, Sasuke clenched his jaw and tore his gaze from my lips.

"Forget it," he muttered more to himself than me, stepping back to finally give us some breathing room, although he seemed to need it more than I did. He shook his head like the deed would make the memory of the last few seconds fall away. I frowned, confused at what just happened yet too wary to push it further. He caught the bewilderment spread all over my face, looked away, and continued unconvincingly, "I was riled up. I don't know what the hell I'm saying."

I bit my lip, disturbed at his easy dismissal for some ridiculous reason. "Okay."

"Fuck, would you _stop_ that?"

I blinked, bewildered at the irritated glare that shot angry bullets at my direction.

"Stop biting your lips, for god's sake."

"I don't do that." I let go of my lower lip, nonetheless.

"Yes, you do," he growled. "You do it all the fucking time. It's _frustrating_."

I shook my head, incredulous at the sudden turn of conversation and annoyed at where this outburst even came from. "Why are you fretting over something so small? It's my habit, it doesn't affect _you_."

He gave me a look I couldn't read. "You don't know that."

A frown creased my forehead. What—?

"Damn it, I need to go," he muttered underneath his breath as he ran a palm down his face. Sasuke paced just in front of the threshold of my bedroom door, seemingly eager to throw himself out the room. He let out an aggravated growl yet again. "I need to get away from here."

"You're leaving?" I hated how the question so easily said, _don't._

"What else am I going to go, share you bed and stay the night?"

I stared at him.

He shut his eyes and ran another hand through his hair, which now looked worse than a chicken's behind. "_Goddamnit_," he swore under his breath. "My brain just doesn't work around you."

I stayed silent, shifting my weight from one foot to another. "Where are you going?"

"I have work."

In the corner of my vision, I eyed the glossy black telephone receiver now lying arbitrarily on the carpet. Sasuke must have dropped it while trying to hold me back from leaving just a little earlier. The conversation with the Rogue came rushing back at me, Sasuke's outburst momentarily forgotten. If Sasuke wouldn't be staying—

Sasuke's eyes sharpened, pinning me into place.

"Don't even think about it," he barked before the thought even became any coherent plan in my head. "You are _not_ leaving this house."

I met his eyes. "I just killed someone."

"The Rogue will kill whoever he wants. You think he needs your permission to do it? You couldn't have done anything."

"I could do something _right now_," I hissed.

"What? _What_ would you do?"

Surrendering under the weight of the truth in his words, I slumped on the mattress of my bed. I wished for more energy to defy him, but I understood what Sasuke was saying and hated not being able to think of a way around it. The gravity of the night's events settled heavily on my shoulders, and the earlier impulse to bolt out the house and save the night seeped down the drain. I had no more fight left in me.

I stared at the carpeted floors, wishing I could burn through them just to release this angry helplessness. "Am I supposed to just wait and see whose body they dig up on the morning news tomorrow?" I spat.

Before me, I heard Sasuke move across the room, and within a second or two he came into my line of sight, kneeling before me and looking up into my eyes. His hands rested on my knees. In the back of my mind, I noticed how natural it was for him to be so close, and suddenly it was hard to imagine us any other way. When did that change ever take place?

"I'll be at the station all night," he began, his voice now soft and quiet as he searched my eyes, fought through the cloud of darkness that threatened to drown me whole. "I'll keep an eye out. But I need you here, do you understand? _I_ need you safe."

He waited for a response. He got none.

Sasuke sighed, his warmth breath intoxicating. I shut my eyes and fought the distraction. "Get some sleep, Sakura."

"I'm not tired," I bit out.

He paused, trying to read me, I suppose. It wasn't very hard. "You're mad at me."

Yes, I thought, because he didn't understand. I couldn't stay here, locked up in this room, sleeping it off. The nightmares would be worse than the memories of the waking world. Slumber would be a little hard to achieve when you just sent someone to their death bed.

Yes, too, because of how he confused me, because of how much moodier he was than I am, searing and intense one moment then icy cold the next. He'd say something stupid, something like _"What if I lost you?"_ then pretend the following second that I couldn't matter less. What the hell is the matter with this guy?

And yes, I thought, because he was leaving me tonight. And because he made me wish he wouldn't.

"No," I lied. "I'm not mad."

Another sigh, as exasperated and resigned as the rest, escaped his lips. Sasuke's gaze wandered to my left and right, above my head and below my eyes, sometimes flickering to my lips, then shooting off elsewhere again—but never did his eyes meet mine. A long minute of wordlessness stretched between us.

Them, without warning, I felt his hands wander from my knee and down my calf through the fabric of my jeans. I jolted, watched as his fingers wrapped around my ankles and worked through the straps of my sandals.

"What are you doing?"

Sasuke slipped off the heels with surprising ease, and then I remembered they were the same shoes he'd taken off me the night we looked for the Rogue's alley and my ankle swelled the size of an apple. I watched, speechless and befuddled as Sasuke rose and crossed the room; he was shuffling through my closet, opening drawers and cabinets before I could register what he was doing.

"Where do you keep your shirts?"

"Don't open that—"

Too late. Sasuke already had the certain drawer halfway open. He paused, stared at the... pieces of clothing for a second too long, and slowly closed the thing. I buried my face in my hand, too exhausted to be embarrassed, though I caught the quick glance Sasuke shot at my direction before moving on to explore another drawer—much warily, this time. The flutter of cabinets and doors sliding open and shut continued. "Jeez," I heard him mutter through the closet door, "Why the hell do you have so much shit...?"

He walked out a minute later with a lose red shirt and an old pair of sweats bunched up in one hand, dropping the bundle on my lap.

"Change into something more comfortable," he ordered, "I'll go make sure all the windows and doors are locked around the house."

I stared at he crossed the room, towards the threshold. For some reason, as though perhaps my brain couldn't function properly around him as well, I blurted out: "How do you know I wear clothes to bed?"

He froze. I could almost make out the reddening skin on the nape of his neck. "_Sakura_," he scolded, his tone chastising and pleading all at once. "Stop messing with my head."

I bit back a small smile. "Sorry," came a whisper tinged with mirth, "It kind of just slipped out—"

"That's not even funny," he growled, walking out the room and slamming the door.

In the light of the night, I kind of thought it was quite amusing. With Sasuke's presence gone, however, the darkness returned. The walls of my room drew closer, the ceiling lower, the air thicker. I glanced at the window smeared with red, dripping letters.

I knew the Rogue wouldn't come back—not tonight, not when he would be busy with a kill. I knew I was as safe tonight as I had been the night before and all the nights before that. Though it was disgusting to be assured of my own safety at the expense of someone else's, I knew the Rogue would leave me alone at least for the rest of the evening.

Nevertheless, I shuddered at the thought of being alone in this empty house, in the deep caverns of a guilty conscience. I wasn't afraid of the Rogue coming back. Instead, I feared the cold fingers of guilt, working and embedding into my brain just enough to steal away my sanity. Without Sasuke, they would succeed.

Pushing back the reminder of Sasuke's impending absence, I rose to close the curtains then wriggled out of my clothes into a softer and more comfortable set. By the time Sasuke slammed the door back open, I was sitting in the middle of my bed, cross-legged with a blank stare ahead of me. It was better, I knew from experience, to feel nothing at all than allow emotions to swallow up what remained of me. I ignored Sasuke leaning against the doorsill and continued mentally to stuff all the emotions in a metal cage which I then throw out into an endless black abyss.

"You should get some rest, Sakura."

He had no idea. He wasn't the one whose voice gave life to the Rogue's endeavours. He couldn't possibly know what lay waiting for me in sleep, what I saw when I closed my eyes every night. I didn't voice these thoughts, however, for I knew Sasuke would only argue and I had no more strength to argue back.

"I thought you were leaving?" I whispered instead.

Behind me, I knew the red paint still dripped freshly down my windowsill, smearing haunted shadows in my memory. Sasuke's presence kept those shadows at bay, but they slowly tricked back in remembrance as he readied himself to leave. I suddenly missed the familiar pressure of his arms around me. Without his warmth, the cold fingers of dread grazed my arms, wrapping to prepare their grip.

"Yeah, soon."

I drew my knees up from under the blankets and propped my chin on them, pushing back the dread that would come to replace his presence. "Okay."

Sasuke shifted uneasily in the corner of my eye. "You think I _want_ to leave you, especially after what just happened? I'm on probation, I can't skip work."

"I know that," I replied, feeling selfish. "Go ahead, it's okay. I'll be fine."

He made no move out the door, choosing instead to create another weighty silence that stretched like a canyon between me, on the bed, and him by the door. It was but a few yards to cross, but such grounds were new and unfamiliar, and it seemed terrifying to me to try and cross the gorge without any idea of what might await us down below. Sasuke terrified me like that.

Though he was the one to linger by the doorway, Sasuke refused to look at me. I let the stillness last for a few more seconds, until eventually his last words echoed in my head one too many times, refusing the Uchiha's order to _forget about it._

Finally, I broke the hush and whispered: _"_So what if you did?"

His head snapped in my direction. I met his hardened eyes.

"What?"

"What if you _did_ lose me... what then?"

"I told you to forget about that."

Resignedly, I lay down on the mattress and turned away from him, exhaustion swallowing me just as the pillows and blankets did my body. "Fine," I answered.

A moment later, I heard a switch flicker and all light left the room, save for the moon's soft yet incessant illumination through the curtain. My ears strained to catch any sounds of movement, yet I never heard any door closing or feet shuffling down the stairs. I could almost imagine Sasuke behind me, still propped against the doorway, drilling holes into my spine. I forced the feeling away and concentrated on sleep. _Sleep,_ I hissed, while Sasuke was here—while the shadows and nightmares stayed away.

Just as I drifted between wakefulness and slumber, a voice fought through the dreamy hazy of my mind, firm enough to make it to my ears yet soft enough not to wake me entirely.

"That's not an option, Sakura."

I shifted, drifting further into oblivion. "What isn't?" came a half-conscious murmur.

"Losing you," a strange voice came, oddly coherent in my incoherent state. "That will never happen."

The words engulfed me like a warm blanket, calming my mind, chasing the monsters of guilt away. I heard a shuffle, could almost imagine him halfway through the threshold.

"Sasuke?"

The shuffling stopped.

"What?"

"I can't..." I murmured, eyes falling shut. "I can't lose you either."

His hesitation was tangible in the air. Then, without further ado, the door to my room thudded shut.

I snuggled deeper into the soft sheets, letting the pillows surround me like the haze in my mind. Imagining his presence still in the room, imagining that he hadn't left, that I wasn't alone, I drifted further into nothingness, further... further...

The mattress dipped.

Warmth pressed against my back.

Lips gazed my forehead.

_I can't lose you either_, I remembered saying.

"_You won't," _came a whisper in my dreams.

* * *

In the middle of the night, I felt the mattress shift again.

A soft click, like a door closing, reached my half-asleep ears. Soft footfalls thudded in the floor below me, followed by another click from the front door.

I let him go, knowing he would stay if I even thought of asking, knowing he was already more than late for work.

I let him go, knowing there would be no nightmares tonight.

He had chased them all away.

* * *

Several hours later, I woke up to the sound of muffled rapping and weakened thumps.

Subdued din seeped through the narrow slit beneath the door and trickled faintly into the room, dwindled by the distance of its travel and the barriers along the way. Barely audible and not much bothersome, I paid no heed and once again welcomed slumber.

The thudding, however, continued.

It wouldn't have grated on my nerves if it weren't so ceaseless, steadfastly announcing its presence through the silence as I gradually reached a point of restlessness. I tossed and turned, the excessive movements rousing me further. I groaned.

Somewhere in the house, the thudding continued.

I lay still for a moment to place the nameless sound. It seemed to emanate from one particular spot someplace within the abode, though incomprehensively it came at me from all directions. When all attempts of ignoring the ruckus had oozed down the drain, I sat up with a jerk, ears straining to hear through the early morning's extra din, filtering out the tapping droplets of the rain that had begun sometime in the middle of the night, to put on the spotlight the strange, unidentified clamour that didn't quite belong.

The sounds came from under me, beneath the floorboards that supported the second level of the building.

Charily, I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and noiselessly lowered my feet to the ground. A fleeting glance towards the alarm clock on the bedside table told me it was three in the morning, thus explaining the grogginess that obscured my head and the annoyance I felt for being awoken at such an ungodly hour. The hinges creaked as I swung the door ajar, as they always did at the times you most needed them to shut up, and the soft, ear-splitting shriek of corroding iron and carbon alloys softly ricocheted down the hall.

The resonance of rapping and thumping continued to haunt the air around me, luring my legs to the fore as I crawled as silently as possible along the passage. The urge to flip on the lights was overwhelming, but lately I've grown used to darkness—as though I've spent longer than my fair share of time in the dark side.

Easily my eyes adjusted to the dim shade that shrouded every inch of the vicinity, turning picture frames, furniture and the spiral banister of the stairway into one panoramic, monochrome painting. The contrast of blacks and whites were intensified by the moon's silvery-blue glow, which seeped indoors from skylight above.

With only the pale moonlight illumining the path, I crept down the stairs, each step taken painstakingly slow and premeditated to avoid needless squeaking from the wooden panels. I held my breath as I descended, a sense of dread igniting in my stomach and churning its contents. Exactly what I was afraid of, I wasn't quite sure, but suddenly I didn't feel like going any farther.

Coming upon the landing, I halted, limbs solidifying against my will as though suddenly filled with hardening cement, and listened.

The sounds were clearer now from where I stood at the bottom of the staircase, an implication of the closing distance between me and the source of the noise. I compelled myself forward, forcing my legs to inch their way across the cold parquet of the antechamber. What had been indistinguishable blurs of auditory vibrations gradually sorted themselves into sensible places, becoming a shuffling fusion of cloth and grass and knuckles on glass.

I frowned, gulping down the imaginary blockage that stuck at the bottom of my throat, hitching my breath.

Footsteps sloshed raucously to my right, the swishes of mud-matted shoe soles, soaked in soil and rainwater as they trudged onwards, originating from the living room. At a snail's pace I started down the unlit corridor, eyes focused upon the darkened doorway that lead to the front room, out of which the racket grew louder, pounding now in my ears in accordance with the palpitating of my heart.

I edged closer to the corner of the threshold with my back pressed against the wall, only the thin partition of which separated me and the living room. The blood-pumping organ and the violent thumping on the window jumbled, auditory waves combining to form one, large quaking pulsation in my eardrums.

There was no doubt about it now. There was no domestic animal in the neighbourhood strong enough, or large enough, to produce such forceful noises. If it had been a wild bear gone astray from the adjoining forest patch, it would have been bored and left a long time ago; it wouldn't continue to knock on my living room window with a pace evidently panicked.

But a person, a human being, could.

Taking in a deep breath, pushing down the uneasy feeling in my guts, I rounded the bend and stood by the doorstep of the living room. The den appeared just as it always was: a three-piece suite was in the center of the area, situated around a low, square coffee table that was cream in the daylight, but appeared grey now in the shadows. Scattered about the space were unlit IKEA lamps, though at the moment all they seemed to me were lean ambiguous shapes lurking in corners, not at all the chic pieces of fixtures they are during the day.

_Bam, bam, bam,_ continued the noise, coming from somewhere on my right hand side. Turning my head accordingly, I sighted the peaceful image of my mother's favourite piano moonlit and gleaming, but it was from behind the instrument that the noise emitted. From where I stood on the other side of the room, I couldn't spot what was making the noise, though I espied the slight motions of the ivories, trembling from the beat on the other side of the casement. _Bam, bam, bam..._

_BAM!_

Suddenly, in the same moment a large, strident crash boomed in my ears. The walls of the room shook from the thunderous shattering of glass breaking into a thousand splinters, as sparkling crystallized bits exploded all over the keys of the grand piano and spilled onto the floor. Under the unremitting force exerted with each thump of the gloved fist, the glass gave in ultimately, first cracking before it blasted into pieces with a last strike.

The scream that tore through my throat and burst from my lips blended with the penetrating bell of the alarm system, triggered by the window's damage to signalize possible burglary.

However, the distress signal blaring in the background barely registered in my head. All I could think of at the moment, the only thing that pervaded my mind, was the beastly picture before me.

A portion of the window I'd been looking at only a few seconds earlier had been smashed to smithereens, but it was not a forced entry. A masked robber did not aggressively barge into the house, or held me at gun point while the rest of his companions shuffled out our furniture. A wild animal did not jump in over the shelf to begin clawing at the sofa. In fact, there was nothing but utter immobility and sheer silence.

In my view was a still image, not a moving clip. Under the faint light of the earth's natural satellite and protruding from the jagged puncture in the glass, inertly draped over the window sill, was a long, muscled shaft of flesh.

It took a few moments for me to finally realize just what it was I was staring at.

An arm.

A bloodied, human arm.

I gasped, heart racing faster now as I struggled to catch my breath. The limb did not move. Tiny cuts decorated the pale tissues of the forearm where the fragments of glass had sliced, and within them, scores of small, crimson-stained diamonds that were stuck on the sagging dermis. The grazes bled despite the blue tinge of the skin, though the haemorrhage was minimal—at least about the forearm. The strangest thing about it was its hand. As my gaze brushed down past the wrist, I froze.

Fully soaked were the fingers with what I could only assume was blood, as if it had been immersed in a bucket of black-red paint. The arm lay dangling over the ledge with its palm opened out, as if offering its bleeding hand, beguiling me to come closer.

My mind and body protested, though despite the resistance I presented, instincts won in the end. The need to know, the tremendous urge to see the face of the person to whom the arm belonged, was far more powerful than the fear that overwhelmed my being.

Without thinking, magnetized, I took a step forward, and then another and another until I stood only a few feet from the lifeless appendage, until I could no longer stand the proximity and stopped where I was, until I could see around the flowing draperies that obscured his face.

Close enough now, I prepared myself for what I had been trying to adjourn but which was nevertheless inevitable. Wordlessly, heart thrashing about inside my ribcage, threatening to jump out of my chest any second, I brushed my gaze along the length of the unmoving arm, tracing the light contours of the lifeless appendage beyond the elbow, up the shoulder, moving past the neck and...

—I froze upon reaching my destination, letting my gaze brush over the motionless visage, taking in its bluish paleness, the deep, swollen cut on its left temple, the peculiar red patterns that graced nearly every inch of skin along the jaws, cheeks, forehead, and around the mouth.

Staring back at me was the unmistakable, heavily-tattooed face of Gaara's brother.

* * *

The telephone trilled in the background, screeching for attention, my attention which, at present, was centered solely on the visage of Death's latest victim.

I wanted to look away from the dull, flaccid mug that engraved itself deeper into my brain the longer I stared. I wanted to rid the image from my mind, to stop looking at him, dead on my windowsill, but my body would not allow me to turn away.

I wanted to scream, feeling the piercing cry force its way out of my throat until I realized—I was already screaming. My eyes were already closed.

Lips apart, eyes shut, I was screaming. But I couldn't hear myself.

And I could still see, despite my eyelids supposedly blocking my view of Kankuro, his lifeless head aimed squarely at my direction, locking me in place with his dead gaze. I tried to move, stumbling backwards into a decorative table, knocking whatever frames and vases that had once beautified its tabletop. I gripped the edges of the counter, pushing myself to move, to walk towards the ringing device attached to the wall.

Eyes still focused on the dead body, the dead face, I seized the phone with tremulous fingers and whispered, "Hello?"

"Sakura?" I frowned, trying to recognize the familiar tone of that deep, authoritative voice. "Sakura, we just received an intrusion alert from your house alarm system. Is everything okay?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out were wheezing and a stutter of attempted words. "I—I'm—there...there's..."

"Sakura," Kakashi repeated my name, harder this time, "Sakura, are you injured? Is someone there?"

"No," I replied, "Yes, but... no. Sensei, there's—Kan—" I choked, unable to bring myself to utter his name.

"Sakura, you have to calm down. I need you tell me what's going—"

"_Is that...?"_

The last voice was undoubtedly not Kakashi's; it was muffled, barely audible to my ears, though its presence was unquestionable in the background. The soft slamming of a door was heard, followed by nearing footfalls.

The practiced ease in Kakashi's intonation prior to the unidentified interruption evaporated, and just as quickly as it disappeared, the evenness transformed into displeasure.

"What the hell are you doing here? I'm working, get back to the—" Shuffling reached my ears, louder this time as the speakers crackled, followed by a loud, interrupting clatter. Suddenly, Kakashi's voice was pushed to the back, fading until his words were nothing more than muted mumbles hardly discernible. He seemed farther now from the phone. "_What do you think you're...?!"_

I heard breathing, soft and slightly panicked gulps of air right in my ear, emanating from the speaker of the receiver. Knowing it was no longer Kakashi on the other end, I stiffened, and initially afraid until the stranger finally spoke, revealing that he was not a stranger at all.

"Sakura."

Closing my eyes, I let it soothe me, allowed myself to be submerged in that deep and familiar voice until all my worries melted away. As I leaned against the wall for support, I felt myself slowly trickling to the ground, plummeting to the thin cushions of carpet as my legs weakened and caved in beneath me.

A few feet away, the dead face of the Rogue's latest masterwork still held me captive in its gaze, but that didn't matter anymore.

Closing my eyes, I let it sooth me, the voice of my knight.

* * *

My mind blurred in and out of consciousness, grasping only bits and pieces of sentences that sputtered out of the handset's speaker. Awareness was no longer a concrete shape in my head, but rather an irregular, formless cloud of mist impulsively reallocating from one place to another, jumping from object to object, as though a jittery grasshopper that bound for every blade moved by the storm.

Single-mindedness shifted unevenly between distorted exchanges over the phone and the horror-flick scene before my eyes, no more than six feet away from where I'd shrunk to the floor.

"Sasuke?"

"It's me. What's going on?"

"...Kankuro."

"What?"

"He's... at... my window..."

"At your—what do you mean?"

"...he's _dead_."

* * *

I glided a gaze over the unmoving corpse. With hands curled into dripping claws and half its upper body slung on the window sill, it appeared to be trying force its way inside the house, caught in the middle of crawling as it drew closer and closer to get to me. But was that the case? What had he been doing here? The Rogue had obviously set him up for it. Did Kankuro even know I lived here? Did he remember me? I doubted it. It struck me that perhaps he had been knocking for help—except help had come too late and too much gallons of blood had escaped him.

He had been alive only a minute before, I realized, with blood pumping through his heart and oxygen coursing through his systems just a little over sixty seconds ago, yet I had come too late to do anything to save him—could have, but unable to.

"I could have done something," I whispered.

"No, you couldn't have," replied Sasuke's voice.

"But—"

"Stop it."

* * *

Moving up the pallid appendage and past the shoulders, my eyes landed on the carcass' neck, or, more specifically, where the neck should have been.

In place of the cylinder portion between a human head and body, a gory, gaping hole was incised instead, not unlike a deep canyon through which a dark, scarlet river ran, or an agape mouth that chocked and drowned in blood. His eyes, soulless and dilated, drilled into my core, the shallow pools of green and black devoid of life or any sign of breathing.

"You'll be okay. Kakashi and his team just left, they're headed there right now. Where are you?"

"Living room."

"Where's the body?"

"...here."

"Move away from it," Sasuke directed, but I was too numb to even stir, my focus too rapt on the wilting cadaver of Gaara's brother to comprehend the instruction. I sat still, crouched on the floor, coagulated to a degree of immobility that battled that of a statue's. My body refused to budge—something that Sasuke sensed right away, from the lack of shuffling or sounds of motion. "Move, Sakura," he repeated with an increased force and volume, though the demand was once again to no avail.

Horrified as I was, I couldn't look away. "I can't just leave him there."

* * *

_Drip, drop._

_Drip, drop._

Inch by inch, the viscous red fluid trickled down a limp finger, gathering at the tip before plunging onto the ground as it joined the rest of the fallen dewdrops that had collected below, where a misshapen circle formed on the rug. The puddle percolated into the fabric, black in the shadows whilst glistening scarlet underneath the moon's rays, besieged by slivers of glass like stars on a crimson-stained sky.

"Sakura?"

_Drip, drop,_ it echoed in my head, liquid colliding into liquid, each bead meshing together into a larger lake. Sasuke's voice spoke from the phone, though I couldn't comprehend any words that were coming out of the speakers, despite the fact that I had it held right against my ear. _Drip, drop._

"I think you're going into shock." _But I'm not_, I thought. I wasn't going into shock. _I don't even know what the hell that is, shock._

_Drip, drop,_ it continued.

In the back of my mind, I wondered when the blood would run out.

* * *

Sirens resonated from afar, shrilling in the air as three different refrains that overlapped one another. They rang boisterously over the immediate residences to announce arrival, no doubt cutting through the early morning traffic with ease, pushing cars and trucks aside to make their fastest, shortest route.

It would not be long, only a minute or two away, before strangers burst through front door in conquering masses of paramedics, fire-fighters and policemen, tall and dressed stiffly in their uniforms. I could almost imagine it now: they would approach me and try to haul my frozen being away from the corpse, but they would fail to do so.

I'd remain in this spot, unable to move as I watch paramedics draw nearer to Kankuro's body. They would first inspect the damaged surroundings and then check for a pulse on his slit neck—an unnecessary procedure in this case, given that it was fairly obvious he was already dead. The pulse they'd try to find would not be there, for it was the very vein in which blood flow beat most perceptibly that had already been sliced, torn open for the world to see.

The officers would shake their head as the paramedics tried fruitlessly to tow me to the other room. I would watch as men belonging to the Forensic Department capture the scene with wide-lens cameras, first in colour and then again black and white, before finally relocating Kankuro's body. They would stuff the cadaver into a plastic, leak-proof body bag and take him out of the house.

By then, morning would have already broken out of the horizon, the first light of day gleaming yellows, reds and oranges over the awakening towns of Konoha, creating a silhouette of its broad skyline. At the present time, I looked out of the window, gazing at the black heavens empty of any sign of sunshine or crack of dawn. I still had hours to go.

"Sakura?"

Sasuke's voice was muffled by the nearing sirens, perhaps only a block away from the house at this time. I tried pressing the phone closer to my ear, although to no avail the strident wailing vanquished the soft buzz of the speakers, supple utterances overrode to nothing more audible than a whisper by the constant, ear-splitting bells that screeched and moaned in the night.

"Sakura, I can't hear—I'm losing you." _No, _I pleaded,_ stay._

"Don't hang up," he ordered. In the same moment, from seemingly every direction red and blue lights pierced into the windows and through the transom on the front door, infiltrating rays of light that breached the darkness presently conquering the house, enveloping me. Screeching of rubber tires against damp asphalt echoed outside as emergency vehicles parked in haste, followed by the slamming of doors and the rush of leathered footfalls on the wet, cobblestone path.

"They're here."

"Good. You're safe now."

A meter or two away, the front door slammed open with an echoing bang. My palms began to moist with sweat as I gripped the receiver harder than before, fingers tensing around the slim, glossy trunk. I clung to the innocent handset like a parasite in need, hoping that somehow, it would proffer a rescue raft amidst these rocks and torrents, an escape from the tangle of fear and threats and corpses—my world as I knew it from the moment the Rogue had _logged in _to my life.

I held on to the communicative device like it was my very own lifeline.

"Stay on the phone with me," was my murmured prayer.

"I will," was Sasuke's whispered promise.

In the same moment, strangers burst through front door in conquering masses of paramedics, fire-fighters and policemen, tall and dressed stiffly in their uniforms...

* * *

_**Kankuro**_

Cold.

Freezing, biting cold.

He shuddered compulsively, feeling the mush of grass and mud beneath his body as he forced out a breath. White puffs of smoke formed momentarily at his mouth before disappearing into the surrounding air, while a similar blurry mist clouded the insides of his head, scattering his thoughts and disabling him to think lucidly.

_...the floor moved underneath him in uneven, rolling motions..._

His skull throbbed, lightweight yet implausibly heavy at the same time. His head was a thousand pound mass sloppily propped atop his neck, though there was nothing inside the bulk but buoyant, murky water vapour. He couldn't think straight.

Had he been mugged?

_...strange sounds... opening and closing of the door and hushed shuffling of feet..._

No, that wasn't it. Kidnapped? Hell, no. So what?

_...A figure standing over his bed, hovering over him like a large, suffocating miasma... forcing his eyes to adjust in the darkness, making out only the slightest features of a familiar face and the vaguest of shapes..._

Suddenly, flashes of strewn memories attacked his brain, all too fleeting to comprehend.

_...the hard base of a light lamp descending down his forehead, sending him back to unconsciousness as quickly as he'd stirred out of slumber..._

The cut throbbed at the memory. Was that it? Someone knocked him out?

So how the hell did he end up...here?

Positioning his palms underneath him, Kankuro struggled to push himself up. A thousand bullets hailed down on him, large heavy droplets of rain hitting his back, pressing him back to the ground.

_...tires screeching to a halt...backdoors swung open, and he was balanced at the edge, a pointed tip held below his jaw, the object glinting against the moonlight..._

He stood on wobbly legs, which felt to him as though they were made of goo rather than bones and muscles. A shiver gripped his body and viciously quivered down his spine as he found himself standing in the midst of a lawn. In front of him, a large house was erected in the darkness. What the hell was he doing here? Before he could wonder any more, a shiver gripped his body and viciously quivered down his spine.

Why was it so freaking cold?

_...in one fluid motion, a stinging coldness ran through his neck. The pain never registered. Suddenly he was pushed forward, hitting the ground face down with a violent thud..._

And wet. His shirt was soaked. Why the hell was his shirt so soaked? Right—it was raining. Everything was wet. How could he forget? What was—what the...

_...roaring engines faded in the distance..._

His thoughts began to blur, his head heavy and light at the same time. Suddenly, he was overcome with dizziness, a faint sensation crawling over his body and sinking its claws into his consciousness.

Kankuro shuddered. The weight of his drenched clothes pulled him downwards. Why was his shirt so soaked? Ignoring the sensation, he began to walk, making his way towards front door of the house. He didn't know where the hell he was. Sense of direction or any trace of orientation warped in his brain, gradually smearing into muddled pieces until nothing seemed familiar anymore.

One knock. Two. Three.

He cursed, feeling himself tremble, his skin cold and clammy. He couldn't breathe—a bulk of some kind was clogging his air passages, preventing air from coming into his lungs. Wheezing, he dragged his mad-sodden shoes around the abode towards the closest window.

Something was thudding. The sound throbbed in his ears, strong and fast, weak and irregular.

His pulse.

Planting himself beside one of the casements, he looked down to glare at whatever it was that saturated the fabrics of his apparel. Instead of mere rainwater however, he saw red.

Thick, crimson substances oozed profusely down his chest.

His vision began to distort. Haziness filled his eyes.

And then the pain came, tearing through his neck and down his spine, scattering throughout the rest of his body.

He screamed—or at least intended too, but the cry for help left his lips as nothing more than a gasp.

Panic surged in his veins. Help. Fuck, he needed help.

With all his might, Kankuro clenched a clammy hand and banged on the window, desperate fists colliding with shiny, crystallized surface. He thumped loudly on the sheet of glass, again and again, but the interior of the house remained silent and motionless. The window cracked slightly, but still no one came.

Slowly, his entire body began to chill...

His vision was vanishing...

...mind gradually distorting...

...blood rapidly draining.

Beneath his desperate fists, the glass shattered to a thousand smithereens.

The consequent shrill of the alarm never reached his ears.

* * *

_Memo: Again, this chapter was extra long / fluffy to make up for the wait. On the first draft, Sasuke pretty much just walked out without a word after his little slip-up!_

_Did you all notice the new oh-so-awesome "book cover" for IM? Again, I'd like to thank **Tomatoxcherrylover** for the wonderful fanart she made!_

_I amateurishly took her awesome work and put "Instant Message" on the picture, using... Paint. -_-"  
__Anyone artistic? I'd love to see your other IM Fanart that we could use as a "book cover" ! Don't forget to send me a link! ;)_

_Off to work on the **last 10 chapters**,  
__Keelah_

* * *

DID YOU KNOW that you guys aren't the only one who gets scared of IM?

I usually write out the first draft weeks before, and then proof-read and re-edit the chapter again and again. More than once, when I'm editting a chapter I haven't read in a really long time, I forget when the Rogue will pop out next...and end up scaring myself -_-


	53. Breakups and Breakdowns

**Instant Message  
****By Keelah**

* * *

"_How can you just stand there? Doesn't it bother you? Why am I the only one breaking apart!"_

"_If I let myself lose it, Sakura, then how," he asked evenly, smoothly, "am I supposed to hold you together?"_

* * *

_**Chapter FIFTY-TWO  
**__**Breakups and Breakdowns**_

I waited for the tears to trickle down my cheeks.

But they never did.

A gnawing sense of remorse churned inside my guts and nibbled at the dazed fringes of my mind. It nagged at the deepest caverns of my consciousness, the self-reproach ceaseless and persistent as the shadows that devoured each cinder of light in a dark grotto, never, not for a second, allowing me forget the fault I had yet to own up to. The weight of it pulled down at me considerably, stronger than gravity itself, drawing me closer to the ground, to the soil beneath, to Hell.

Meanwhile, dizziness wrapped around me as it did every time vomit threatened up my throat, as though a claw had perched atop my head and gripped my throbbing skull, clenching tighter and tighter until I felt I was about to explode. Contents of my stomach coiled and recoiled as half-digested dinner forced its way up, rendering me sick—but that was it.

I felt like heaving, but never actually threw up. And though I was shaken and afraid, though the rims of my eyes were puffy and reddened, I did not break down. Regardless of the unbearable feeling of remorse lumbering on every muscle, every tissue, and despite the overwhelming urge to simply let it all out by means of shrinking in a corner and bawling my eyes arid, the breakdown never came.

The stores of saltwater had long run out, and thus I was left with nothing more tearless cries and bone-dry regrets.

In the first few hours, the feeling of defeat weighed heavily in my chest, an onerous load I couldn't lift no matter the force I put in. It worsened as I watched them cover Kankuro's face with a cloth and heaved his body into an elongated bag, ready for Forensics. Notwithstanding the fact that I aspired to be a doctor one day, I shuddered at the thought of a body laying powerlessly on a tabletop, incised like a guinea pig in an experiment. I wished to heal people, not see them cut up to portions, already dead and beyond saving.

But as the clock ticked and the same happenings came to pass around me for the umpteenth time—the same guilt, the same emptiness, the same loss and regrets—the moment Kankuro's body was lugged out of the house, I began to absorb everything else from an objective standpoint, without attachment and feeling. Once the carcass was taken away, policemen busied themselves with questioning me, and I fired back at them with answers short and straightforward. Only Kakashi hadn't behaved toward me as though I were either a stupid, unfeeling hooligan or a delicate, nutty little girl; he had stayed reassuringly until every last uniformed stranger had left the house at five in the morning, and had remained close until my parents had arrived.

They came within two hours from the time I called. It turned out that they were at a conference a hundred miles from here and had to excuse themselves in the middle of it to drive straight home. I didn't feel bad: I needed them. A part of me, however, worried about them being here—I was well aware that though they were close by, it would mean that the Rogue would be nearer to them too.

As the questioning continued, the cops revealed absolutely nothing, but despite their intention to keep me in the dark, Kakashi hadn't wholly kept me out of the loop. He would approach me every hour or so, have a word with Sasuke, who was still on the line, and then offer a brief summary of what was going on.

The detective officers deduced that Kankuro had gotten himself in a fight (an easy assumption considering his flawed history with the law), had been injured and had somehow managed his way to a property until he finally collapsed and banged the door for help. _Stupid_, I thought, _stupid, stupid, stupid. _How could they dismiss this so easily? But there was no blaming them. The evidence was all over his body. The bruises, the scratched knuckles, the missing ID and wallet—all the symptoms of either a mugging or a skirmish from the wrong people. The Rogue had been precise to wipe any trace of murder—there was no connecting Kankuro's death to me or to him, he made sure of that. The Rogue set out an entire film of lies for the cops to fall for.

And they did.

Only Kakashi had his doubts.

An inkling of scepticism formed like a looming cloud over his head, the overcast mass of water dimmed by the amount obscurity that veiled each case of suspected homicide as of late. The hunch that something wasn't right chewed visibly at his thoughts, bothering him to a point that his features contorted in frustration beneath his black mask. I didn't think his misgivings were toward me, however; once or twice I had caught Kakashi looking at me, never saying what he was thinking to me or to the other officers. He sent me a puzzled, studying stare that was no different from the way I saw him glance at Sasuke sometimes, as though he knew something, or was more knowledgeable of the situation than he was letting at.

He looked at the trail of blood on my carpet longer than the other officers, his eyes sharp and calculating upon Kankuro's slit throat, the broken remnants of the living room window, the carefully placed bruises on the boy's face.

And then he would look at me, in the same way Sasuke did before I dragged him into all of this, back when he would look at death and then at me, playing a mental game of connect the dots.

I turned away before my eyes revealed more than it should.

Unfeelingly, as the rest of the morning unfolded, I detached myself from the current events happening about me and let myself drift from the scene. I watched from above, like an outsider looking into one awful, screwed up snow globe shaken out of its usual tilt, a world where rather than emulated pure white flakes whirling about, dewdrops of blood rained instead.

My world was a crimson snow globe.

I surveyed the empty body curled in a couch in a corner of the living room. I detached myself from her, from that powerless, pathetic shell of a girl that I had become, the girl who'd played games with a killer.

Spellbound to his fleeting tempo, his ominous harmony, I'd danced and danced with this deathly medley, unknowingly trapped in an intricate and hypnotizing waltzes with Death.

I swore to myself that this would be the last bereavement on my account, the very last time anyone would have to die in the hands of the Rogue by _my_ verdict. With an ultimate recollection of Kankuro from the night before, or what remained of him in the limp, bleeding carcass packed in a body bag, imagining myself in front of him again, I met his lifeless eyes and uttered my final apology.

No one else will die. No one else.

* * *

Yet it was not so much to the dead I owed the act of contrition but, as I found out the very next morning, it was to the people affected by the loss, to the lives of whom the extent of my own battles had revolutionized. These were the loved ones, friends, relatives, family... or a little brother.

Like Gaara.

Earlier this morning, the chance to stay home for the day was graciously proposed by my parents and largely recommended by Kakashi-sensei, but I declined the offer. The problem, I knew, would still be around after a day off, or a little nap and some hours of rest; eventually, no matter how long I attempt to delay the inevitable, I would have to face it.

The other reason was Gaara.

I felt a sick, twisted urge to see how he was holding up, to find out if he was okay and, in effect, to see the effect of my bloodied hands. According to Kakashi, it was apparently Gaara who'd stumbled upon Kankuro's empty bed in the middle of the night. A few hours later, he was dead—it was simply another burden of a memory for him to carry, and I wanted to shoulder that weight with him, if it only meant I could make things a little easier.

But I knew these sentiments of sympathy would not be enough to cleanse Kankuro's blood of my hands, and that no little act of apology would be enough for Gaara to forgive me if he ever found out, but I couldn't let that stop me. I'd try, even if my attempts would be, in the end, in vain and hypocritical.

I stood at the grass field's periphery, lingering by the outer reaches where the short lime blades thinned and met the cemented ground. Out in the meadow, still damp and mud-splattered from the heavy rain overnight, Gaara stood by the soccer nets, one shoulder propped against a metal pole, eyes in the distance as everyone around him jogged with long leashes fastened to muscular canines.

He never once turned in my direction, not even as I gathered up the nerve to step forward and make my way over. All the while, I paid no heed to the inquiring glances Sasuke sent me—or at least, I tried to, but it was always hard to shake off a gaze so intense and unwavering.

Gaara's profile became clearer the closer I drew. Palpable bags drooped at his lower eyelids, underneath which were semicircles of shadows, an indication of how little sleep he'd had during the night. His crimson locks were tousled from both wind and restlessness, blowing across the sallow skin of his cheeks, but the dullness in his eyes was what captivated my attention the most: the olive hue once the darker counterpart of mine were now weary and defeated.

Despite the closing distance between us, Gaara never acknowledged my presence. He remained as he was, motionless up until the moment I stopped in front of him. Finally, his head rose the slightest inch upward and his eyes bore an unreadable gaze into mine.

I froze, suddenly at a loss of how to act, or what to say; I hadn't thought this far ahead. Was he angry with me? While he did not know of my games with the Rogue, or the extent of my culpability regarding all this, his brother was found dead in my home, and that was enough reason. I could have done something if I'd only gotten there in time, if I'd awoken sooner, or fleeted down the stairs faster. Did he blame me? Despise me?

Or was he too upset for anyone's company? Perhaps I should have simply left him to his thoughts, but the more I took in the weariness of his stance, the solemn emptiness of his countenance, I couldn't help but attempt to make things even just the slightest bit easier, more tolerable. He had to know the burden wasn't only his to bear, it was mine too, the girl with hands stained with his brother's blood.

"Hi."

An assorted sort of emotions flashed in his eyes, all too fleeting for me to catch, much less decipher. He looked away. "What are you doing here?"

I stood there, staring at him, a thousand words of apology and condolence running through my head, yet not a word made its way to my throat. "I just…" I struggled, "I wanted to see how you were."

"I'm doing just fine," he bit.

I hesitated, knowing I was about to shoot myself on the foot, but the apology was bursting out of my mouth before I could stop it. "I'm sorry."

He froze. "What the fuck for?"

The coldness in his voice made me flinch—of course, I deserved it, more than he could possible know, but a desperate, senseless, and deeply guilty part of me wanted to apologize anyway, even if he wouldn't be aware of the depth and gravity behind my words, even if the sins I was apologizing for were partly omitted.

"For Kankuro—for not helping him, not getting to him sooner." _For killing him_, I mentally added, _I'm sorry. These words mean nothing, I know, but God, they're all I have to offer right now. I can't do anything but kill. I'm so, so sorry._

I expected him to snap, to fire at me with rage and blame and hate. Though he didn't know the extent of my involvement, though every skin cell and gash and drop of blood on Kankuro's body convinced the police he had stumbled into my home by accident and probably told the red-haired boy the same thing, I still expected Gaara to be angry.

To my surprise, he was anything but.

"Stop."

He'd whispered the word quietly, wearily, as though a heavy weight rested on the four-letter word.

A tense hand ran through his hair in frustration, clenching the red tresses in barely repressed... barely repressed what? It wasn't anger that shook his fists, not anger at me for not getting to Kankuro in time. And though deep, heart-wrenching loss hunched his shoulders and shadowed the bags under his eyes, it wasn't grief or sorrow alone that made his eyes widen considerably, or his fingers clench too tightly, threatening to tear the hair from his scalp.

His body shook, indeed with grief, and sorrow, and hopeless—and guilt.

Guilt?

"No more."

I stared at him, at the visible tremble of his body, the barely repressed _panic_ and _hysteria_ bubbling underneath the taut, tense skin of his arms, the glazed look in his eyes, the snarl curling his lips.

"Gaara..."

His eyes snapped to mine, the madness, determination and utter wrath in them forcing me to step back. I didn't know him—at least he wasn't the Gaara I'd met.

"Gaara," I called again, confused and shocked at the rage of emotions swirling in his furious yet decided eyes. "Gaara, what are you talking—?"

And suddenly he was inches from my face, towering over me and keeping me in place with a grip wrapped tightly on my wrist.

"I'm done screwing up."

_What_? "What? Gaara—"

"It was good while it lasted, huh? Us."

Gaara sent me a glare full of anger and guilt and sorrow and shame and... and even resignation. There were too many emotions, every single one of them contradicting the other, and not many of them particularly targeted at me.

"But you've always had your heart set on someone else, and I should have had mine focused on what was important."

His eyes trained past my head, staring at the ground. His group around my wrist tightened and he drew closer, intimidating me more, but I had a feeling these words were not for me. It was like I wasn't even there.

"Gaara—"

"_Sakura_?"

"Fuck, I should have known better," he muttered angrily, ignoring the calls behind him. In the edge of my vision, just to the left of Gaara's shoulder, I saw Sasuke facing us, body taut and ready to come closer, hard and wary eyes trained on the evidently unstable trembling of an emotionally unstable Gaara.

"I can't afford any more mistakes."

It was his grief talking. Of _course_ he wouldn't be in a position to talk about his brother so soon after he'd died—what the hell was I thinking? There was nothing controlled about his voice, his eyes, his body... suddenly, I felt like standing beside a ticking human time bomb.

I stepped back, but his hold on my wrist tighten.

"Wait, hold on—"

"I guess it's time." He twisted my arm, pulling it up to force me to look at him. A shriek escaped me, involuntarily, as the joints strained with the unnatural angle.

"Gaara, stop—"

"_Hey_," came an angry shout over Gaara's shoulder. In the corner of my eye, I could see Sasuke making a run for it. For us. "What the hell do you think you're—!"

"Time to eliminate liabilities."

I froze, eyes locked onto emerald stones.

Gone was the hysteria, the panic, the anger and guilt and sorrow—only cold, chilling determination.

He smiled, bitter and, for what it's worth, apologetic, but not any else menacing. "I'm sorry."

"Gaara, get your fucking hands off—!"

"For what?" I whispered, confusion and loss filling me with dread.

All of a sudden, his eyes softened.

"I don't know," he replied. "I guess we'll see."

And just like that—he was gone.

The raw skin around my wrist throbbed as I watched him leave the field, moving with purpose across the parking lot and past the school buildings, never at any point bothering to look back. His words, senseless as they were, echoed in my head, a jumbled mess I struggled to sort into defined and sensible explanations.

Though I didn't understand his emotions, I sure was well aware of mine.

I made everything worse by wanting to make it better—what was I thinking, _comforting_ him?

How hypocritical, I scolded myself, to comfort him with the same hands that picked up the phone to answer the Rogue's call, with the same voice that pronounced how Kankuro was to be killed.

The thought gnawed at my conscience, and that slurring voice with an acerbic, double-edged undertone leered close to my ear, whispering:

_You killed him, Kankuro, Gaara's brother. You killed him. You killed..._

"What the _fuck_."

Hands wrapped around my wrist, turning it over and grazing the reddened marks with callused but soothing fingers.

"That asshole—did he hurt you? Are you injured?"

I turned to meet the depthless obsidians of Uchiha Sasuke.

At the sight of me, a frown engraved onto his face, creating deep folds of concern on his forehead. To my surprise, he reached out and ran a tender finger under my eye, catching a tear that had slipped my awareness until that very moment. I blinked to keep back the fountain of salt water that impended to happen, but the action only caused more to trickle down my cheeks.

The fingers already wrapped around my wrist pulled me towards him. Sasuke grasped my upper arms, tenderly but with barely restrained impatience, and forced my head up to level his eyes with mine. The naturally sleek black orbs were jagged with fury.

"I'll kill him," he muttered, his grip tightening. "I'll—"

The whispers in my head continued: _You killed him. You killed him…_

"...I killed him," I whispered, staring up into the hypnotizing eyes of the young man whose fury slowly dispersed into confusion, then disbelief, and then reprimand.

"What?"

"Gaara's brother. He's gone because of—"

"Who said that?" the Uchiha growled. He jerked his head to the side, towards where Gaara had vanished off. "Did _he_ tell you that? I swear, when I get my hands on him—"

"I don't _need_ Gaara or anyone else to point it out. _I'd_ given Rogue what he wanted, _again_, for _my_ sake and I..."

Palms, soft, warm and firm, fastened on either side of my face, forcing me to meet the onyx stones that cut through my body, my mind and soul. "Shut up," he whispered sternly, "Just shut up. I hate seeing you like this."

I shook my head harshly, jerking away from his touch. "How can you just stand there so calmly when someone is _dead_?" Sasuke was poised before me with a blanket of composure and an atmosphere of indifference, as though we hadn't just played the Rogue's game last night, as though we didn't just get someone else killed. How could he be so collected when I was breaking apart? "I'm here in pieces and you don't even feel a thing? _You're_ the one who forced me to play along with the Rogue in the first place. It was _your_ fault too!"

"I know that."

"Then why don't you feel _anything_?" I screamed at him, as loud as I dared without having anyone else overhear. I trembled, grabbed my head and clenched a fistful of hair in frustration. "Don't you have any remorse? Doesn't it _bother_ you?"

"Of course it bothers me," he hissed. "It's been eating me up since the moment that phone call ended."

A sob escaped my lips as I leaned into him, whispering, more quietly now: "Then why am I the only one breaking apart?" He didn't wrap his arms around me, and I didn't expect him to (it wasn't something Sasuke did consciously, much less around his friends, whose curious eyes were most definitely upon us at the moment) but he did lay his hands on my waist, his grip gentle and barely there, but solid—enough to keep me in place against him.

"If I let myself lose it, Sakura, then how," he asked evenly, smoothly, "am I supposed to hold you together?"

The question hovered in the closer proximity between us, left rhetorical without an answer. _Like a pillar_, I thought. _He was my pillar of strength._

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came. My entire body still trembled. "Just snap out of it," Sasuke muttered when he felt my tremors against his chest. "There was nothing you could've done."

"I could've _not_ given in."

"Big difference," he spat. "_Then_ what? He'll go and kill someone else. Or worse, kill _you_. You think I'd sit back and let that happen?"

"But Gaara—"

"There was nothing you could have done," he repeated. "For _any_ of them. You can only pick yourself up and take a another step closer to the Rogue. Stop him. It's the least you can do now." I froze, swallowing the words that were coming out of his mouth, the sense of truth and deliverance in them ringing in my ears. "Don't put their deaths to waste, Sakura. You owe it to them."

I owed it to them, the least I could do.

And then I realized—he was right. Every second I spent guilt ridden or numb was time wasted when I could as quickly snap out of it and keep moving to the fore, closer and closer to the Rogue, even though the distance sometimes felt so far.

Sometimes it felt that he was a wholly different dimension, that there was no chance I could ever find him with blind eyes and deaf ears—but standing here, beside Sasuke, borrowing his resilience, it made me stronger.

_He_ made me stronger.

I racked my brain for all the clues and hints and traces that the Rogue has left behind in his wake for me to interpret. Sasuke and Shikamaru—they could only dig up a possible trail, but it was up to me to claw through whatever impediment lay in the way and see where it led.

The alley, the pictures—all too many of them that it seemed almost impossible that the Rogue alone that sacrificed 24 hours of his 7 days simply to keep me in watch—his uncanny preciseness in the way he laid down Kankuro's crime scene, his skill at fooling the cops, his involvement with Orochimaru, the draft file Shikamaru had uncovered, the names, the affiliations, the gangs…

I stopped and recalled all those acronyms, all those letters and numbers beside the list of foreign appellations.

One of them had said KGH.

"Sasuke," I spoke suddenly, stepping away from his hold, suddenly aware now of the gazes we'd drawn from across the fields where his buddies had gathered. "On the roster Shikamaru found, there was an acronym. KGH." Sasuke's eyebrow rose, as if to say _Yeah, and? _"That stands for Konoha General Hospital."

He paused, thinking it over. "Three letters can mean anything," he concluded, "it can just be a note, or a code for some underground gang."

"It isn't," I insisted, because suddenly a memory of that man, that lonesome house, several nights ago, flashed into my head. "One of them—Yakushi was his name, I think—he must work in the General hospital."

"Look, I know you're excited from that recent pep talk, but this is useless information."

I growled, frustrated. "The man I followed Friday night was carrying a white lab coat, the kind medical assistants wear. The hospital's logo was printed on the left chest pocket of the coat."

"It could be a coincidence." Whatever happened to the positivity he possessed only minutes ago? Suddenly Sasuke appeared cautious, as though he didn't want to go where he knew I was taking this matter. But it was too late.

"I doubt that," I persevered. "We try and look for clues that would lead us to the Rogue, and I stumble across this man who works at the. Four days later, Shikamaru finds a roster in his e-mail, where one of the names just happens to have the hospital's initials on it. They're the same person Sasuke." The screws and bolts of my thoughts worked speedily, uncoiling to give way to a scheme that had already begun to unfold, far too fast for logic to possibly catch up. "They've _got_ to be. Whoever this Yakushi is, he knows the Rogue. He has to."

Sasuke stared at me, hard, processing the sparkling anticipation in my eyes, those jade revealing windows through which one could evidently see the rapidly turning wheels of my brain.

"Sakura…" he warned, voice lowered to a bass note by the weight of disapproval. "Don't even _think_ about it."

But a plan had already unfurled in my head.

"Tonight."

"No," Sasuke asserted. "Definitely not. There is _no_ way I'm letting you—"

* * *

_**Uchiha Sasuke**_

Hours later, he found himself crouched before a decrepit back door, both his presence and that of the petite girl beside him blanketed by an impenetrable mantle of shadows, which were offered generously by the surrounding ensemble of conifers, thickened by the faded, silvery shafts of moonlight.

As he reached deep into his pocket to pull out a pair of unwound paperclips, the erratic pounding of a heartbeat ricocheted in his ears like a bass rhythm, low and loud, and it took a moment for it to occur to him that the pulse was that of _his_ heart. Many would say that Sasuke was a hard-hitting kind of guy, one who never shied away from scary shit and faced problems head on, but this—this thing they were doing, it was scaring the hell out of him. What made the situation so ironic was the fact that this plan had originated from a person most unlikely to be caught doing anything criminal, the most irritable pink-haired goody-two-shoes, and it had been she who'd successfully managed to goad the Uchiha into agreement.

If he wasn't so terrified shitless, he'd be laughing.

"I knew you'd come," whispered a soft, soprano voice from a spot at his side. He growled, still annoyed with her. But he sure as hell wouldn't have let her go alone—and she most certainly, irritatingly would have if he hadn't come with.

"Make it quick," he hissed at her. "We check out the place and go. I can't believe I'm doing this." He was on parole, for God's sakes. If Kakashi ever found out... he didn't even what to continue that thought, dreading the inevitable punishment to which his current actions would most definitely lead.

"I don't understand why you're so uptight," Sakura remarked rather loudly, as though the soft chirping of crickets and the melodic whooshes of wind-tossed tree branches were enough to conceal her amplified volume.

"Quiet."

"...You've done this before, haven't you?" She questioned. Her intonation was light with curiosity but her eyes were already decided, presupposing the "yes" without the need of his reply. At the sound of clicking metal, she tore her attention from him redirected it to his hands, which were poised closely around the yellow-gold knob, busy with activity in the slightest shifts of movement.

He watched her as she, in turn, watched him work. The fine ends of the wires were positioned between his practiced fingers. With the smallest flick of his wrist or a turn of his hands, the wires bent and moved according to his will inside the impossibly narrow keyhole. Just as before, he could almost see the uncoiling of the steel rods as they made way for the intruding, makeshift stick.

It ticked loudly as the internal mechanisms clashed, but when he twisted the knob, it remained bolted. He swore under his breath and tried again, fingers masterfully finding another way out of the puzzle as he rediscovered what had once been his expertise not that many years before. It had been a while since he'd last done anything like this, so he was a little out of form.

"Why is it not working?"

"...takes time," he muttered, the entirety of his focus concentrated on the difficult obstacle.

"_Hurry_."

"Shut up."

In the corner of his eye, he saw her huff. _Could she be any more childish?_

"Look," he sighed, exasperated. "You're nagging won't make things faster." And neither would her hovering over him, straining to see over his shoulder. If she could just back off a little and give him some space, if she could just stop her breath from mingling with the sweat that beaded around the nape of his neck, then perhaps he wouldn't be so distracted. "So stop talking."

"We don't know when he'll get home. What if he's on his way? What if the neighbours spot us?"

"Sakura," he snapped, "either shut your mouth or I will."

Finally, she became quiet.

But the silence lasted only a few beats, and after a moment she found her voice and spoke once _again,_ much to his aggravation.

"…And you'd do that _how_?"

He turned to face her; infuriated that she was _still_ speaking. "I'll—" An effective plan to silence her failed to conjure in his mind. "I would..."

His gaze dropped and, accidentally, unintentionally, involuntarily, settled upon her mouth.

An idea then came to him. He could—

"Sasuke?"

"Nothing," he snapped, redirecting his mind back to the keyhole, fumbling now with the wires rashly and inexpertly.

He shook his head.

"Never mind."

...

...

...

But as though the movements of his body had severed all ties with his brain, as though sanity had permanently, officially abandoned him, he found himself glancing at her again...

...his eyes flicking once more to the soft, flushed line of her lips.

"Step away from me," he growled. "And turn around, make sure I can't see you."

She blinked. "What? Why?"

"So I don't do anything _stupid_."

* * *

_MEMO: =) It's been a while! But, good news: I just finished outlining the last few chapters. **How soon** I update really depends on YOUR comments / criticisms / encouragements, because they remind & really motivate me to write IM even in the middle of school & work._

_Look! The Review Box is right there! So accessible and easy... lol_

**_Spent 20 hours outlining/writing this chapter._**  
**_Kindly spend 20 seconds to leave a review? Pleeeeaaasssee? x)_**

_Again, I appreciate all the patience, support, praise, & criticisms. They make me write better and remind me that I write for readers, not for me. Thank you._

_Off to outline the ending/epilogue!_  
_- Keelah_

* * *

Thanks again to **tomatoxcherrylover** for creating the really cool **IM fanart/cover**!  
You can see the whole picture here, and make sure you tell her how awesome she is!

tomatoxcherrylover(period)deviantart(period)com(sl ash)art(slash)Instant-Message-206294772

(this is really so annoying because I can't put a link so you gotta remove the brackets yourselves. ugh.)


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